SOVTMERJ4ER 


By  GEORGE .  W.  CABLE 


JOHN    MARCH 

SOUTHERNER 


GEORGE  W.  CABLE'S  WRITINGS. 


BONAVENTURE.       A    Prose   Pastoral   of  Arcadian   Louisiana. 

12mo,  paper,  50  cts  ;   cloth,  $1.25. 
DR.  SEVIER.      12mo,  paper,  50  cts;    cloth,  $1.25. 
THE     GRANDISSIMES.       A  Story  of  Creole  Life.       12mo, 

$1.25. 

OLD  CREOLE   DAYS.     12mo,  $1.25. 
STRANGE  TRUE  STORIES  OF  LOUISIANA.       Illustrated, 

12mo,  $2.00. 

•»»  New  Uniform  Edition  of  the  above  five  volumes, 
cloth,  in  a  box,  $6.00. 


OLD  CREOLE  DAYS.     Cameo  Edition  with   Etching,  $1.25. 
OLD  CREOLE   DAYS.      2   vols.      16mo,    paper,   each   30  cts. 
MADAME  DELPHiNE.     75  cts. 
THE  CREOLES  OF  LOUISIANA.       Illustrated  from  drawings 

by   Pennell.      Small   quarto,   $2.50. 
THE  SILENT   SOUTH,  Together  with  the   Freedman's  Case 

in  Equity  and  the  Convict  Lease  System.     With   Portrait. 

12mo,  $1.00. 


JOHN  MARCH 

SOUTHERNER 


BY 

GEORGE   W.    CABLE 


NEW  YORK 
CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 


COPYRIGHT,  1894,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


THE  CAXTON  PRESS 

Nt*   YORK 


PS 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     SUEZ 1 

II.    To  A  GOOD  BOY 4 

III.    Two  FRIENDS 11 

IV.    THE  JUDGE'S  SON  MAKES  Two  LIFE-LONG  Ac- 


V. 
VI. 

QUAINTANCKS,  AND  IS  OFFERED  A  THIRD 
THE  MASTER'S  HOME-COMING 
TROUBLE              ....... 

17 

21 

28 

VII. 

EXODUS    

37 

VIII. 

SEVEN  YEARS  OF  SUNSHINE     .... 

42 

IX. 

LAUNCELOT  HALLIDAY           .... 

49 

X. 

FANNIE        

56 

XT. 

A  BLEEDING  HEART      

60 

XII. 

JOHN  THINKS  HE  is  NOT  AFRAID  . 

63 

XIII. 

68 

XIV. 

A  MORTGAGE  ON  JOHN      

77 

XV. 

ARRIVALS  AT  ROSEMONT       .... 

85 

XVI. 

A  GROUP  OF  NEW  INFLUENCES 

89 

XVII. 

THE  EOSEMONT  ATMOSPHERE 

92 

XVIII. 

THE  PANGS  OF  COQUETRY 

100 

XIX. 

MR.     RAVENEL    SHOWS    A    "MORE     EXCEL 

LENT  WAY"      

106 

M115402 


VI 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

XX.  FANNIE  SUGGESTS 

XXI.  MR.  LEGGETT'S  CHICKEN-PIE  POLICY 

XXII.  CLIMBING  LOVER'S  LEAP 

XXIII.  A  SUMMONS  FOR  THE  JUDGE 

XXIV.  THE  GOLDEN  SPIKE         .... 
XXV.  BY  RAIL 

XXVI.  JOHN  INSULTS  THE  BRITISH  FLAG 

XXVII.  To  SUSIE— FROM  PUSSIE     . 

XXVIII.  INFORMATION  FOR  SALE 

XXIX.  RAVENEL  ASKS 

XXX.  ANOTHER  ODD  NUMBER 
XXXI.  MR.  FAIR  VENTURES  SOME    INTERROGA 
TIONS          

XXXII.  JORDAN 

XXXIII.  THE  OPPORTUNE  MOMENT 

XXXIV.  DAPHNE  AND  DINAVIDDIE  :    A  PASTEL  IN 

PROSE 

XXXV.  A  AViDow's  ULTIMATUM      . 

XXXVI.  A  NEW  SHINGLE  IN  SUEZ 

XXXVII.  WISDOM  AND  FAITH  Kiss  EACH  OTHER 

XXXVIII.  RUBBING  AGAINST  MEN  .... 

XXXIX.  SAME  AFTERNOON 

XL.  ROUGH  GOING 

XLI.  SQUATTER  SOVEREIGNTY      . 

XLII.  JOHN  HEADS  A  PROCESSION     . 

XLIII.  ST.  VALENTINE'S  DAY          . 

XLIV.  ST.  VALENTINE'S  :     EVENING 

XLV.  A  LITTLE  VOYAGE  OF  DISCOVERIES    . 

XL VI.  A  PAIR  OF  SMUGGLERS 

XLVII.  LEVITICUS 


PACK 
111 
118 
123 
127 
135 
145 
151 
158 
103 
108 
174 

181 
187 
192 


195 
190 
204 
207 
213 
219 
225 
233 
242 
250 
255 
200 
200 
271 


CONTENTS 


Vll 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XLVIIT.  DELILAH 276 

XLIX.  MEETING  or  STOCKHOLDERS       .        .        .  287 

L.  THE  JAMBOREE 297 

LI.  BUSINESS        ..'....  306 

LIL  DARKNESS  AND  DOUBT    .        .        .        .  310 

LIU.  SWEETNESS  AND  LIGHT        ....  314 

LIV.  AN  UNEXPECTED  PLEASURE    .        .        .  318 

LV.  HOME-SICKNESS  ALLEVIATED      .        .        .  322 

LVI.  CONCERNING  SECOND  LOVE      .        .        .  328 

LVII.  Go  ON,  SAYS  BARBARA         ....  333 

LVIII.  TOGETHER  AGAIN 345 

LIX.  THIS  TIME  SHE  WARNS  HIM     .        .        .  350 

LX.  A  PERFECT  UNDERSTANDING          .        .  350 

LXI.  A  SICK  MAN  AND  A  SICK  HORSE     .        .  366 

LXII.  EAVENEL  THINKS  HE  MUST           .        .  373 

LXIIL  LETTERS  AND  TELEGRAMS           .        .        .  380 

LXIV.  JUDICIOUS  JOHANNA         ....  386 

LXV.  THE  ENEMY  IN  THE  REAR         .        .        .391 

LXYI.  WARM      HEARTS,     HOT      WORDS,    COOL 

FRIENDS 397 

LXYII.  PROBLEM  :    Is  AN  UNCONFIRMED  DISTRUST 

NECESSARILY  A  DEAD  ASSET  ?                .           .  405 

LXVIII.  FAREWELL,  WIDEWOOD    .        .        .        .  412 

LXIX.  IN  YANKEE  LAND 419 

LXX.  ACROSS  THE  MEADOWS      ....  426 

LXXI.  IN  THE  WOODS 429 

LXXII.  MY  GOOD  GRACIOUS,  Miss  BARB    „        .  436 
LXXIII.  IMMEDIATELY  AFTER  CHAPEL    .        .        .  444 
LXXIY.  COMPLETE  COLLAPSE  OF  A  PERFECT  UN 
DERSTANDING         451 


Vlll 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 
LXXV. 


A  YEAR'S  VICISSITUDES 


LXXVI.    AGAINST  OVERWHELMING  NUMBERS 
LXXVII.     "LINES  OF  LIGHT  ON  A  SULLEN  SEA" 
LXXVIII.     BARBARA  FINDS  THE  RHYME 


PAGE 

453 
464 
471) 
491 


JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 


SUEZ 

IN  the  State  of  Dixie,  County  of  Clearwater,  and 
therefore  in  the  very  heart  of  what  was  once  the 
"  Southern  Confederacy,"  lies  that  noted  seat  of  govern 
ment  of  one  county  and  shipping  point  for  three,  Suez. 
The  pamphlet  of  a  certain  land  company — a  publication 
now  out  of  print  and  rare,  but  a  copy  of  which  it  has 
been  my  good  fortune  to  secure — mentions  the  battle  of 
Turkey  Creek  as  having  been  fought  only  a  mile  or  so 
north  of  the  town  in  the  spring  of  1864.  It  also 
strongly  recommends  to  the  attention  of  both  capitalist 
and  tourist  the  beautiful  mountain  scenery  of  Sandstone 
County,  which  adjoins  Clearwater  a  few  miles  from 
Suez  on  the  north,  and  northeast,  as  Blackland  does, 
much  farther  away,  on  the  southwest. 

In  the  last  year  of  our  Civil  War  Suez  was  a  basking 
town  of  twenty-five  hundred  souls,  with  rocky  streets  and 
breakneck  sidewalks,  its  dwellings  dozing  most  months 
of  the  twelve  among  roses  and  honeysuckles  behind 
anciently  whitewashed,  much-broken  fences,  and  all 
the  place  wrapped  in  that  wide  sweetness  of  apple  and 
acacia  scents  that  comes  from  whole  mobs  of  dog-fennel. 


JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

cPuiaski  <CJty4  tuirnpike  entered  at  the  northwest  cor 
ner  and  passed  through  to  the  court-house  green  with 
its  hollow  square  of  stores  and  law-offices — two  sides  of 
it  blackened  ruins  of  fire  and  war.  Under  the  town's 
southeasternmost  angle,  between  yellow  banks  and  over 
hanging  sycamores,  the  bright  green  waters  of  Turkey 
Creek,  rambling  round  from  the  north  and  east,  skipped 
down  a  gradual  stairway  of  limestone  ledges,  and  glided, 
alive  with  sunlight,  into  that  true  Swanee  River,  not  of 
the  maps,  but  which  flows  forever,  "  for,  far  away," 
through  the  numbers  of  imperishable  song.  The  river's 
head  of  navigation  was,  and  still  is,  at  Suez. 

One  of  the  most  influential,  and  yet  meekest  among 
the  "  citizens  " — men  not  in  the  army — whose  habit  it 
was  to  visit  Suez  by  way  of  the  Sandstone  County  road, 
was  Judge  Powhatan  March,  of  Widewood.  In  years 
he  was  about  fifty.  He  was  under  the  medium  stature, 
with  a  gentle  and  intellectual  face  whose  antique  dig 
nity  was  only  less  attractive  than  his  rich,  quiet  voice. 

His  son  John — he  had  no  other  child — was  a  fat- 
cheeked  boy  in  his  eighth  year,  oftenest  seen  on  horse 
back,  sitting  fast  asleep  with  his  hands  clutched  in  the 
folds  of  the  Judge's  coat  and  his  short  legs  and  browned 
feet  spread  wide  behind  the  saddle.  It  was  hard  strad 
dling,  but  it  was  good  company. 

One  bright  noon  about  the  close  of  May,  when  the 
cotton  blooms  were  opening  and  the  cornsilk  was  turn 
ing  pink;  when  from  one  hot  pool  to  another  the  kildee 
fluttered  and  ran,  and  around  their  edges  arcs  of  white 
and  yellow  butterflies  sat  and  sipped  and  fanned  them 
selves,  like  human  butterflies  at  a  seaside,  Judge  March 


SUEZ  6 

— with  John  in  his  accustomed  place,  headquarters 
behind  the  saddle — turned  into  the  sweltering  shade  of 
a  tree  in  the  edge  of  town  to  gossip  with  an  acquaint 
ance  on  the  price  of  cotton,  the  health  of  Suez  and  the 
last  news  from  Washington — no  longer  from  Richmond, 
alas ! 

"  Why,  son ! "  he  exclaimed,  as  by  and  by  he  lifted 
the  child  down  before  a  hardware,  dry-goods,  drug  and 
music  store,  " what's  been  a-troublin'  you?  You  a-got 
tear  marks  on  yo'  face  !  "  But  he  pressed  the  question 
in  yam. 

"Gimme  yo'  han'ke'cher,  son,  an'  let  me  wipe  'em 
off." 

But  John's  pockets  were  insolvent  as  to  handker 
chiefs,  and  the  Judge  found  his  own  no  better  supplied. 
So  they  changed  the  subject  and  the  son  did  not  have 
to  confess  that  those  dusty  rivulet  beds,  one  on  either 
cheek,  were  there  from  aching  fatigue  of  a  position  he 
would  rather  have  perished  in  than  surrender. 

This  store  was  the  only  one  in  Suez  that  had  been 
neither  sacked  nor  burned.  In  its  drug  department 
there  had  always  been  kept  on  sale  a  single  unreplen- 
ished,  undiminished  shelf  of  books.  Most  of  them  were 
standard  English  works  that  took  no  notice  of  such 
trifles  as  children.  But  one  was  an  exception,  and  this 
world-renowned  volume,  though  entirely  unillustrated, 
had  charmed  the  eyes  of  Judge  March  ever  since  he  had 
been  a  father.  Year  after  year  had  increased  his  patient 
impatience  for  the  day  when  his  son  should  be  old 
enough  to  know  that  book's  fame.  Then  what  joy  to 
see  delight  dance  in  his  brave  young  eyes  upon  that 


4  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

volume's  emergence  from  some  innocent  concealment — 
a  gift  from  his  father ! 

Thus  far,  John  did  not  know  his  a-b-c's.  But  edu 
cation  is  older  than  alphabets,  and  for  three  years  now 
he  had  been  his  father's  constant,  almost  confidential 
companion.  Why  might  not  such  a  book  as  this,  even 
now,  be  made  a  happy  lure  into  the  great  realm  of  let 
ters  ?  Seeing  the  book  again  to-day,  reflecting  that  the 
price  of  cotton  was  likely  to  go  yet  higher,  and 
touched  by  the  child's  unexplained  tears,  Judge  March 
induced  him  to  go  from  his  side  a  moment  with  the 
store's  one  clerk — into  the  lump-sugar  section — and 
bought  the  volume. 


II. 

TO    A    GOOD    BOY 

IN  due  time  the  Judge  and  his  son  started  home. 

The  sun's  rays,  though  still  hot,  slanted  much  as  the 
two  rose  into  oak  woodlands  to  the  right  of  the  pike  and 
beyond  it.  Here  the  air  was  cool  and  light.  As  they 
ascended  higher,  and  oaks  gave  place  to  chestnut  and 
mountain-birch,  wide  views  opened  around  and  far  be 
neath.  In  the  south  spread  the  green  fields  and  red 
fallows  of  Clearwater,  bathed  in  the  sheen  of  the  linger 
ing  sun.  Miles  away  two  white  points  were  the  spires 
of  Suez. 

The  Judge  drew  rein  and  gazed  on  five  battle-fields 
at  once.  "  Ah,  son,  the  kingdom  of  romance  is  at  hand. 


TO  A   GOOD  BOY  O 

It's  always  at  hand  when  it's  within  us.  I'll  be  glad 
when  you  can  understand  that,  son." 

His  eyes  came  round  at  last  to  the  most  western 
quarter  of  the  landscape  and  rested  on  one  part  where 
only  a  spray  had  dashed  when  war's  fiery  deluge  rolled 
down  this  valley.  "  Son,  if  there  wa'n't  such  a  sort  o' 
mist  o'  sunshine  between,  I  could  show  you  Rosemont 
College  over  yondeh.  You'll  be  goin'  there  in  a  few 
years  now.  That'll  be  fine,  won't  it,  son  ?  " 

A  small  forehead  smote  his  back  vigorously,  not  for 
yea,  but  for  slumber. 

"  Drowsy,  son  ? "  asked  the  Judge,  adding  a  back 
ward  caress  as  he  moved  on  again.  "  I  didn't  talk  to  you 
enough,  did  I  ?  But  I  was  thinkin'  about  you,  right 
along."  After  a  silence  he  stopped  again. 

"Awake  now,  son?"  He  reached  back  and  touched 
the  solid  little  head.  "  See  this  streak  o'  black  land 
where  the  rain's  run  down  the  road  ?  Well,  that  means 
silveh,  an'  it's  ow  Ian'." 

They  started  once  more.  "  It  may  not  mean  much, 
but  we  needn't  care,  when  what  doesn't  mean  silveh 
means  dead  loads  of  other  things.  Make  haste  an' 
grow,  son  ;  yo'  peerless  motheh  and  I  are  only  wait'n' — " 
He  ceased.  In  the  small  of  his  back  the  growing  pres 
sure  of  a  diminutive  bad  hat  told  the  condition  of  his 
hidden  audience.  It  lifted  again. 

"  'Evomind,  son,  I  can  talk  to  you  just  as  well  asleep. 
But  I  can  tell  you  somepm  that'll  keep  you  awake.  I 
was  savin'  it  till  we'd  get  home  to  yo'  dear  motheh,  but 
yo'  ti-ud  an'  I  don't  think  of  anything  else  an' — the 
fact  is,  I'm  bringing  home  a  present  faw  you."  He 


6  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

looked  behind  till  his  eyes  met  a  brighter  pair. 
"  What  you  reckon  you've  been  sitt'n'  on  in  one  of 
them  saddle  pockets  all  the  way  fum  Suez  ? " 

John  smiled,  laid  his  cheek  to  his  father's  back  and 
whispered,  "  A  kitt'n." 

"  Why,  no,  son  ;  its  somepm  powerful  nice,  but — 
well,  you  might  know  it  wa'n't  a  kitt'n  by  my  lett'n' 
you  sit  on  it  so  long.  I'd  be  proud  faw  you  to  have  a 
kitt'n,  but,  you  know7,  cats  don't  suit  yo'  dear  motheh's 
high  strung  natu'e.  You  couldn't  be  happy  with  any 
thing  that  was  a  constant  tawment  to  her,  could 
you  ? " 

The  head  lying  against  the  questioner's  back  nodded 
an  eager  yes ! 

"Oh,  you  think  you  might,  son,  but  I  jes'  know  you 
couldn't.  Now,  what  I've  got  faw  you  is  ever  so  much 
nicer'n  a  kitt'n.  You  see,  you  a-growin'  so  fast  you'll 
soon  not  care  faw  kitt'ns ;  you'll  care  for  what  I've  got 
you.  But  don't  ask  what  it  is,  faw  I'd  hate  not  to  tell 
you,  and  I  want  yo'  dear  motheh  to  be  with  us  when 
you  find  it  out." 

It  was  fairly  twilight  when  their  horse  neighed  his 
pleasure  that  his  crib  was  near.  Presently  they  dis 
mounted  in  a  place  full  of  stumps  and  weeds,  where  a 
grove  had  been  till  Halliday's  brigade  had  camped 
there.  Beyond  a  paling  fence  and  a  sandy,  careworn 
garden  of  altheas  and  dwarf-box  stood  broadside  to  them 
a  very  plain,  two-story  house  of  uncoursed  gray  rubble, 
whose  open  door  sent  forth  no  welcoming  gleam.  Its 
windows,  too,  save  one  softly  reddened  by  a  remote 
lamp,  reflected  only  the  darkling  sky.  This  was  their 


TO  A   GOOD  BOY  1 

home,  called  by  every  mountaineer  neighbor  "  a  plumb 
palace." 

As  they  passed  in,  the  slim  form  of  Mrs.  March  en 
tered  at  the  rear  door  of  the  short  hall  and  came  slowly 
through  the  gloom.  John  sprang,  and  despite  her  word 
and  gesture  of  nervous  disrelish,  clutched,  and  smote  his 
face  into,  her  pliant  crinoline.  The  husband  kissed  her 
forehead,  and,  as  she  staggered  before  the  child's  energy, 
said  : 

"  Be  gentle,  son."  He  took  a  hand  of  each.  "  I 
hope  you'll  overlook  a  little  wildness  in  us  this  evening, 
my  dear."  They  turned  into  a  front  room.  "  I  wonder 
he  restrains  himself  so  well,  when  he  knows  I've  brought 
him  a  present — not  expensive,  my  deah,  I  assho' 
you,  nor  anything  you  can  possible  disapprove ; 
only  a  B-double-O-K,  in  fact.  Still,  son,  you  ought 
always  to  remember  yo'  dear  mother's  apt  to  be 
ti-ud." 

Mrs.  March  sank  into  the  best  rocking-chair,  and. 
while  her  son  kissed  her  diligently,  said  to  her  husband, 
with  a  smile  of  sad  reproach  : 

"  John  can  never  know  a  woman's  fatigue. " 

"  No,  Daphne,  deah,  an'  that's  what  I  try  to  teach 
him." 

"  Yes,  Powhatan,  but  there's  a  difference  between 
teaching  and  terrifying." 

"  Oh  !  Oh  !  I  was  fah  fum  intend'n'  to  be  harsh." 

"  Ah !  Judge  March,  you  little  realize  how  harsh 
your  words  sometimes  are."  She  showed  the  back  of 
her  head,  although  John  plucked  her  sleeves  with  vehe 
ment  whispers.  "  What  is  it  child  ?  " 


8  JOHN  MA  R  677,  SO  U  TIIERNER 

Her  irritation  turned  to  mild  remonstrance.  "  You 
shouldn't  interrupt  your  father,  no  matter  how  long  you 
have  to  wait." 

"  Oh,  I'd  finished,  my  deah,"  cried  the  Judge,  beam 
ing  upon  wife  and  son.  "  And  now,"  he  gathered  up 
the  saddle-bags,  "  now  faw  the  present !  " 

John  leaped — his  mother  cringed. 

"  Oh,  Judge  March — before  supper  ?  " 

"Why,  of  co'se  not,  my  love,  if  you " 

"Ah,  Powhatan,  please!  Please  don't  say  if  I." 
The  speaker  smiled  lovingly — "  I  don't  deserve  such  a 
rebuke  !  "  She  rose. 

"  Why,  my  deah  !" 

"  No,  I  was  not  thinking  of  I,  but  of  others.  There's 
the  tea-bell.  Servants  have  rights,  Powhatan,  and  we 
shouldn't  increase  their  burdens  by  heartless  delays. 
That  may  not  be  the  law,  Judge  March,  but  it's  the 
gospel." 

"Oh,  I  quite  agree  with  you,  Daphne,  deah!  "  But 
the  father  could  not  help  seeing  the  child's  tearful  eyes 
and  quivering  mouth.  "  I'll  tell  you  mother,  son — 
There's  no  need  faw  anybody  to  be  kep'  wait'n'.  We'll 
go  to  suppeh,  but  the  gift  shall  grace  the  feast !  "  He 
combed  one  soft  hand  through  his  long  hair.  John 
danced  and  gave  a  triple  nod. 

Mrs.  March's  fatigue  increased.  "  Please  yourself," 
she  said.  "  John  and  I  can  always  make  your  pleasure 
ours.  Only,  I  hope  he'll  not  inherit  a  frivolous  impa 
tience." 

"  Daphne,  I "  The  Judge  made  a  gesture  of  sad 

capitulation. 


TO  A   GOOD  BO  Y  9 

"  Oh,  Judge  March,  it's  too  late  to  draw  back  uo\v. 
That  were  cruel !  " 

John  clambered  into  his  high  chair—said  grace  in  a 
pretty  rhyme  of  his  mother's  production — she  was  a 
poetess — and  ended  with : 

"Amen,  double-O-K.  I  wrish  double-0-K  would 
mean  firecrackers  ;  firecrackers  and  cinnamon  candy !  " 
He  patted  his  wrists  together  and  glanced  triumphantly 
upon  the  frowsy,  barefooted  waitress  while  Mrs.  March 
poured  the  coffee. 

The  Judge's  wife,  at  thirty-two,  was  still  fair.  Her 
face  was  thin,  but  her  languorous  eyes  were  expressive 
and  her  mouth  delicate.  A  certain  shadow  about  its 
corners  may  have  meant  rigidity  of  will  or  only  a  habit 
of  introspection,  but  it  wras  always  there. 

She  passed  her  husband's  coffee,  and  the  hungry  child, 
though  still  all  eyes,  was  taking  his  first  gulp  of  milk, 
when  over  the  top  of  his  mug  he  saw  his  father  reach 
stealthily  dowrn  to  his  saddle-bags  and  straighten  again. 

"Son." 

" Suh ! " 

"  Go  on  with  yo'  suppeh,  son."  Under  the  table  the 
paper  was  coming  off  something.  John  filled  both 
cheeks  dutifully,  but  kept  them  so,  unchanged,  wrhile 
the  present  came  forth.  Then  he  looked  confused  and 
turned  to  his  mother.  Her  eyes  were  on  her  husband 
in  deep  dejection,  as  her  hand  rose  to  receive  the  book 
from  the  servant.  She  took  it,  read  the  title,  and 
moaned : 

"  Oh !  Judge  March,  what  is  your  child  to  do  with 
'  Lord  Chesterfield's  Letters  to  his  Son  ? '  " 


10  JO  HN  MA  R  CH,  SO  U  TIIERNER 

John  waited  only  for  her  pitying  glance.  Then  the 
tears  burst  from  his  eyes  and  the  bread  and  milk  from 
his  mouth,  and  he  cried  with  a  great  and  continuous 
voice,  "  I  don't  like  presents  !  I  want  to  go  to  bed !  " 

Even  when  the  waitress  got  him  there  his  mother 
could  not  quiet  him.  She  demanded  explanations  and 
he  could  not  explain,  for  by  that  time  he  had  persuaded 
himself  he  was  crying  because  his  mother  was  not 
happy.  But  he  hushed  when  the  Judge,  sinking  down 
upon  the  bedside,  said,  as  the  despairing  wife  left  the 
room, 

"  I'm  sorry  I've  disappointed  you  so  powerful,  son. 
I  know  just  how  you  feel.  I  made — "  he  glanced  round 
to  be  sure  she  was  gone — "just  as  bad  a  mistake  one 
time,  trying  to  make  a  present  to  myself." 

The  child  lay  quite  still,  vaguely  considering  whether 
that  was  any  good  reason  why  he  should  stop  crying. 

"  But  'evomind,  son,  the  ve'y  next  time  we  go  to  town 
we'll  buy  some  cinnamon  candy." 

The  son's  eyes  met  the  father's  in  a  smile  of  love,  the 
lids  declined,  the  lashes  folded,  and  his  spirit  circled 
softly  down  into  the  fathomless  under-heaven  of  dream 
less  sleep. 


TWO  FRIENDS 

III. 

TWO    FRIENDS 

IT  was  nearly  four  o'clock  of  a  day  in  early  June. 
The  sun  shone  exceptionally  hot  on  the  meagre  waters 
of  Turkey  Creek,  where  it  warmed  its  sinuous  length 
through  the  middle  of  its  wide  battle-field.  The  turn 
pike,  coming  northward  from  Suez,  emerged,  white, 
dusty,  and  badly  broken,  on  the  southern  border  of  this 
waste,  and  crossed  the  creek  at  right  angles.  Eastward, 
westward,  the  prospect  widened  away  in  soft  Leavings  of 
fallow  half  ruined  by  rains.  The  whole  landscape 
seemed  bruised  and  turn,  its  beauty  not  gone,  but  rav 
ished.  A  distant  spot  of  yellow  was  wheat,  a  yet  farther 
one  may  have  been  rye.  Off  on  the  right  a  thin  green 
mantle  that  only  half  clothed  the  red  shoulder  of  a  rise 
along  the  eastern  sky  was  cotton,  the  sometime  royal 
claimant,  unsceptred,  but  still  potent  and  full  of  beauty. 
About  the  embers  of  a  burned  dwelling,  elder,  love-pop, 
and  other  wild  things  spread  themselves  in  rank  com 
placency,  strange  bed-fellows  adversity  had  thrust  in 
upon  the  frightened  sweet-Betsy,  phlox  and  jonquils  of 
the  ruined  garden.  Here  the  ground  wras  gay  with 
wild  roses,  and  yonder  blue,  pink,  white,  and  purple 
with  expanses  of  larkspur. 

A  few  steps  to  the  left  of  the  pike  near  the  wrood's 
strong  shade,  a  beautiful  brown  horse  in  gray  and  yel 
low  trappings  suddenly  lifted  his  head  from  the  clover 
and  gazed  abroad. 


1 2  JOHN  MA  R  CIS,  SO  U  THERNER 

"He  knows  there's  been  fighting  here,"  said  a  sturdy 
voice  from  the  thicket  of  ripe  blackberries  behind ; 
"he  sort  o'  smells  it." 

"Reckon  he  hears  something,"  responded  a  younger 
voice  farther  from  the  road.  "Maybe  it's  C'nelius's 
yodle  ;  he's  been  listening  for  it  for  a  solid  week." 

"He's  got  a  good  right  to,"  came  the  first  voice 
again;  "worthless  as  that  boy  is,  nobody  ever  took 
better  care  of  a  horse.  I  wish  I  had  just  about  two 
dozen  of  his  beat  biscuit  right  now.  He  didn't  have 
his  equal  in  camp  for  beat  biscuit." 

"When  sober,"  suggested  the  younger  speaker,  in 
that  melodious  Southern  drawl  so  effective  in  dry  satire ; 
but  the  older  voice  did  not  laugh.  One  does  not  like  to 
have  another's  satire  pointed  even  at  one's  nigger. 

The  senior  presently  resumed  a  narrative  made 
timely  by  the  two  having  just  come  through  the  town. 
"You  must  remember  I  inherited  no  means  and  didn't 
get  my  education  without  a  long,  hard  fight.  A  thor 
ough  clerical  education's  no  mean  thing  to  get." 

"Couldn't  the  church  help  you  ?  " 

"  Oh — yes — I,  eh — I  did  have  church  aid,  but 

Well,  then  I  was  three  years  a  circuit  rider  and  then  I 
preached  four  years  here  in  Suez.  And  then  I  married. 
Folks  laugh  about  preachers  always  marrying  fortunes — 
it  was  a  mighty  small  fortune  Rose  Montgomery 
brought  me!  But  she  was  Rose  Montgomery,  and  I 
got  her  when  no  other  man  had  the  courage  to  ask  for 
her.  You  know  an  ancestor  of  hers  founded  Suez. 
That's  how  it  got  its  name.  His  name  was  Ezra  and 
was  Susan,  don't  you  see  ?  " 


TWO  FRIENDS  13 

"  I  think  I  make  it  out,"  drawled  the  listener. 

"  But  she  didn't  any  more  have  a  fortune  than  I  did. 
She  and  her  mother,  who  died  about  a  year  after,  were 
living  here  in  town  just  on  the  wages  of  three  or  four 
hired-out  slaves,  and " 

The  younger  voice  interrupted  with  a  question  indo 
lently  drawn  out :  "  Was  she  as  beautiful  in  those  days 
as  they  say?" 

"Why,  allowing  for  some  natural  exaggeration, 
yes." 

"You  built  Rosemont  about  the  time  her  mother 
died,  didn't  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  about  three  years  before  the  war  broke  out. 
It  was  the  only  piece  of  land  she  had  left ;  too  small 
for  a  plantation,  but  just  the  thing  for  a  college." 

"  It  is  neatly  named,"  pursued  the  questioner ;  "  who 
did  it?" 

"I,"  half  soliloquized  the  narrator,  wrapped  in  the 
solitude  of  his  own  originality. 

He  moved  into  view,  a  large  man  of  forty,  unmili- 
tary,  despite  his  good  gray  broadcloth  and  wealth  of 
gold  braid,  though  of  commanding  and  most  com 
fortable  mien.  His  upright  coat-collar,  stoo  much 
agape,  showed  a  clerical  white  cravat.  His  right  arm 
was  in  a  sling.  He  began  to  pick  his  way  out  of  the 
brambles,  dusting  himself  with  a  fine  handkerchief. 
The  horse  came  to  meet  him. 

At  the  same  time  his  young  companion  stepped  upon 
a  fallen  tree,  and  stood  to  gaze,  large-eyed,  like  the 
horse,  across  the  sun-bathed  scene.  He  seemed  scant 
nineteen.  His  gray  shirt  was  buttoned  with  locust 


1 4  JOHN  MA  R  Clf,   SO  U  THERNER 

thorns,  his  cotton- woolen  jacket  was  caught  under  an 
old  cartridge  belt,  his  ragged  trousers  were  thrust  into 
bursted  boots,  and  he  was  thickly  powdered  with  white 
and  yellow  dust.  His  eyes  swept  slowly  over  the  bat 
tle-ground  to  some  low,  wooded  hills  that  rose  beyond  it 
against  the  pale  northwestern  sky. 

"  Major,"  said  he. 

The  Major  was  busy  lifting  himself  carefully  into  the 
saddle  and  checking  his  horse's  eagerness  to  IDC  off. 
But  the  youth  still  gazed,  and  said  again,  "  Isn't  that 
it?" 

"What?" 

"Rosemont." 

"  It  is ! "  cried  the  officer,  standing  in  his  stirrups, 
and  smiling  fondly  at  a  point  where,  some  three  miles 
away  by  the  line  of  sight,  a  dark  roof  crowned  by  a 
white-railed  lookout  peeped  over  the  tree-tops.  "It's 
Rosemont — my  own  Rosemont !  The  view's  been 
opened  by  cutting  the  woods  off  that  hill  this  side  of  it. 
Come ! " 

Soon  a  wreath  of  turnpike  dust  near  the  broken 
culvert  over  Turkey  Creek  showed  the  good  speed  the 
travelers  made.  The  ill-shod  youth  and  delicately- 
shod  horse  trudged  side  by  side  through  the  furnace 
heat  of  sunshine.  So  intolerable  were  its  rays  that 
when  an  old  reticule  of  fawn-skin  with  bright  steel 
chains  and  mountings,  well-known  receptacle  of  the 
Major's  private  papers  and  stationery,  dropped  from  its 
fastenings  at  the  back  of  the  saddle  and  the  dismounted 
soldier  stooped  to  pick  it  up,  the  horseman  said : 
"Don't  stop;  let  it  go;  it's  empty,  I  burned  every- 


TWO  FRIENDS  15 

thing  in  it  the  night  of  the  surrender,  even  my  wife's 
letters,  don't  you  know  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  the  youth,  trying  to  open  it,  "I  remem 
ber.  Still,  I'll  take  its  parole  before  I  turn  it  loose." 

"  That  part  doesn't  open,"  said  the  rider,  smiling, 
"it's  only  make-believe.  Here,  press  in  and  draw  down 
at  the  same  time.  There !  nothing  but  my  card  that  I 
pasted  in  the  day  I  found  the  thing  in  some  old  papers 
I  was  looking  over.  I  reckon  it  was  my  wife's  grand 
mother's.  Oh,  yes,  fasten  it  on  again,  though  like  as 
not  I  will  give  it  away  to  Barb  as  soon  as  I  get  home. 
It's  my  way." 

And  the  Reverend  John  Wesley  Garnet,  A.M., 
smiled  at  himself  self-lovingly  for  being  so  unselfish 
about  reticules. 

"  You  need  two  thumbs  to  tie  those  leather  strings, 
Jeff-Jack."  Jeff-Jack  had  lost  one,  more  than  a  year 
before,  in  a  murderous  onslaught  where  the  Major  and 
he  had  saved  each  other's  lives,  turn  about,  in  almost 
the  same  moment.  But  the  knot  was  tied,  and  they 
started  on. 

"Speakin'  o'  Barb,  some  of  the  darkies  told  her  if 
she  didn't  stop  chasing  squir'ls  up  the  campus  trees  and 
crying  when  they  put  shoes  on  her  feet  to  take  her  to 
church,  she'd  be  turned  into  a  boy.  What  d'  you 
reckon  she  said?  She  and  Johanna — Johanna's  her 
only  playmate,  you  know — danced  for  joy ;  and  Barb 
says,  says  she,  'An'  den  kin  I  doe  in  swimmin'?' 
Mind  you,  she's  only  five  years  old !  "  The  Major's 
laugh  came  abundantly.  "  Mind  you,  she's  only  five  !  " 

The    plodding    youth    whiffed    gayly    at   the    heat, 


16  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

switched  off  his  bad  cotton  hat,  and  glanced  around 
upon  the  scars  of  war.  Pie  was  about  to  speak  lightly  ; 
but  as  he  looked  upon  the  red  washouts  in  the  forsaken 
fields,  and  the  dried  sloughs  in  and  beside  the  high 
way,  snaggy  with  broken  fence-rails  and  their  margins 
blackened  by  teamsters'  night-fires,  he  fell  to  brooding 
on  the  impoverishment  of  eleven  States,  and  on  the 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  men  and  women  sitting  in  the 
ashes  of  their  desolated  hopes  and  the  lingering  fear  of 
unspeakable  humiliations.  Only  that  morning  had 
these  two  comrades  seen  for  the  first  time  the  procla 
mation  of  amnesty  and  pardon  with  which  the  presi 
dent  of  the  triumphant  republic  ushered  into  a  second 
birth  the  States  of  "  the  conquered  banner." 

"  Major,"  said  the  young  man,  lifting  his  head,  "  you 
must  open  Rosemont  again." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,  Jeff- Jack.  It's  mighty  dark  for 
us  all  ahead."  The  Major  sighed  with  the  air  of  being 
himself  a  large  part  of  the  fallen  Confederacy. 

"  Law,  Major,  we've  got  stuff  enough  left  to  make  a 
country  of  yet !  " 

"  If  they'll  let  us,  Jeff- Jack.  If  they'll  only  let  us  ; 
but  will  they  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes.     They've  shown  their  hand." 

"  You  mean  in  this  proclamation  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir.     Major,  '  we-uns '  can  take  that  trick." 

The  two  friends,  so  apart  in  years,  exchanged  a  con 
fidential  smile.  "  Can  we  ?  "  asked  the  senior. 

"  Can't  we  ? "  The  young  soldier  walked  on  for 
several  steps  before  he  added,  musingly,  and  with  a 
cynical  smile,  "  I've  got  neither  land,  money,  nor  edu- 


KE  W  A  CQ  UA IX  TA  NCR  S  17 

cation,  hut  I'll  help  you  put  Rosemont  on  her  feet 
again — -just  to  sort  o'  open  the  frame.'' 

The  Major  gathered  himself,  exaltedly.  "  Jeff-Jack, 
if  you  will,  I'll  pledge  you,  here,  that  Rosemont  shall 
make  your  interest  her  watchword  so  long  as  her  inter 
ests  are  mine."  The  patriot  turned  his  eyes  to  show 
Jeff-Jack  their  moisture. 

The  young  man's  smile  went  down  at  the  corners, 
satirically,  as  he  said,  "  That's  all  right,"  and  they 
trudged  on  through  the  white  dust  and  heat,  looking  at 
something  in  front  of  them. 


IV. 

THE  JUDGE'S  SON  MAKES  TWO  LIFE-TIME  ACQUAINT 
ANCES,  AND  IS  OFFERED   A  THIRD 

THEY  had  been  ascending  a  long  slope  and  wrere  just 
reaching  its  crest  when  the  Major  exclaimed,  under  his 
voice,  "  Well,  I'll  be  hanged  !  " 

Before  them  stood  three  rusty  mules  attached  to  a 
half  load  of  corn  in  the  shuck,  surmounted  by  a  coop 
of  panting  chickens.  The  wheels  of  the  wagon  were 
heavy  with  the  dried  mud  of  the  Sandstone  County 
road.  The  object  of  the  Major's  contempt  was  a  small 
ish  mulatto,  who  was  mounting  to  the  saddle  of  the  off- 
wheel  mule.  He  had  been  mending  the  rotten  harness, 
and  did  not  see  the  twTo  soldiers  until  he  lifted 


18  JOHN  MARCH,   SOUTHERNER 

again  bis  long  rein  of  cotton  plough-line.  The  word  to 
go  died  on  his  lips. 

"  Why,  Judge  March  !  "  Major  Garnet  pressed  for 
ward  to  where,  at  the  team's  left,  the  owner  of  these 
chattels  sat  on  his  ill-conditioned  horse. 

"  President  Garnet !  I  hope  yo'  well,  sir  ?  Aw  at 
least,"  noticing  the  lame  arm,  "  I  hope  yo'  mendin'." 

"Thank  you,  Brother  March,  I'm  peart'nin',  as  they 
say."  The  Major  smiled  broadly  until  his  eye  fell 
again  upon  the  mulatto.  The  Judge  saw  him  stiffen. 

"  C'nelins  only  got  back  Sad'day,"  he  said.  The 
mulatto  crouched  in  his  saddle  and  grinned  down  upon 
his  mule. 

"  He  told  me  yo'  wound  compelled  slow  travel,  sir ; 
yes,  sir.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  apologi/e  faw  liiriu'  him, 
sir,  but  it  was  only  pending  yo'  return,  an'  subjec'  to 
yo'  approval,  sir." 

"  You  have  it,  Brother  March,"  said  Major  Garnet 
suavely,  but  he  flashed  a  glance  at  the  teamster  that 
stopped  his  grin,  though  he  only  said,  "  Howdy,  Corne 
lius." 

"  Brother  March,  let  me  make  you  acquainted  with 
one  of  our  boys.  You  remember  Squire  Ravenel,  of 
Flatrock?  This  is  the  only  son  the  war's  left  him. 
Adjutant,  this  is  Judge  March  of  Widewood,  the 
famous  Widewood  tract.  Jeff-Jack  was  my  adjutant, 
Brother  March,  for  a  good  while,  though  without  the 
commission." 

The  Judge  extended  a  beautiful  brown  hand;  the 
ragged  youth  grasped  it  with  courtly  deference.  The 
two  horses  had  been  arrogantly  nosing  each  other's 


NE  W  A  CQ  UAINTANCES  19 

muzzles,  and  now  the  Judge's  began  to  work  his  hinder 
end  around  as  if  for  action.     Whereupon  : 

"  Why,  look'e  here,  Brother  March,  what's  this  at  the 
back  of  your  saddle?  " 

The  Judge  smiled  and  laid  one  hand  behind  him. 
"  That's  my  John — Asleep,  son  ? — He  generally  is  when 
he's  back  there,  and  he's  seldom  anywhere  else.  Drive 
on,  C'nelius,  I'll  catch  you." 

As  the  wagon  left  them  the  child  opened  his  wide 
eyes  on  Jeff-Jack,  and  Major  Garnet  said  : 

"  He  favors  his  mother,  Brother  March — though  I 
haven't  seen — I  declare  it's  a  shame  the  way  we  let  our 
Southern  baronial  sort  o'  life  make  us  such  strangers —  ~f~~ 
why,  I  haven't  seen  Sister  March  since  our  big  union 
camp  meeting  at  Chalybeate  Springs  in  '58.  Sonnie- 
boy,  you  ain't  listening,  are  you?"  The  child  still 
stared  at  Jeff-Jack.  "  Mighty  handsome  boy,  Brother 
March — stuff  for  a  good  soldier — got  a  little  sweet 
heart  at  my  house  for  you,  sonnie-boy!  Rosemont  Col 
lege  and  Widewood  lands  wouldn't  go  bad  together, 
Brother  March,  ha,  ha,  ha !  Your  son  has  his  mother's 
favor,  but  with  something  of  yours,  too,  sir." 

Judge  March  stroked  the  tiny,  bare  foot.  "I'm 
proud  to  hope  he'll  favo'  his  mother,  sir,  in  talents. 
You've  seen  her  last  poem  :  '  Slaves  to  ow  own  slaves  -f- 
— Neveh ! '  signed  as  usual,  Daphne  Dalrymple  ? 
Dalrymple's  one  of  her  family  names.  She  uses  it  to 
avoid  publicity.  The  Pulaski  City  Clarion  reprints 
her  poems  and  calls  her  '  sweetest  of  Southland  song 
sters.'  Major  Garnet,  I  wept  when  I  read  it !  It's  the 
finest  thing  she  has  ever  written !  " 


20  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

I  "Ah!  Brother  March,"  the  Major  had  seen  the 
poem,  but  had  not  read  it,  "  Sister  March  will  never 
surpass  those  lines  of  her's  on,  let's  see  ;  they  begin— 
Oh !  dear  me,  I  know  them  as  well  as  I  know  my 

horse — How  does  that " 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,  seh.  You  mean  the  ballad 
of  Jack  Jones  ! 

"  '  IIo  !  Southrons,  hark  how  one  brave  lad 
Three  Yankee  standards ' ' 

"Captured!"  cried  the  Major.  "That's  it;  why, 
my  sakes!  Hold  on,  Jeff- Jack,  I'll  be  with  you  in  just 
a  minute.  Why,  I  know  it  as — why,  it  rhymes  with 
'  cohorts  enraptured  ! ' — I — why,  of  course ! — Ah  !  Jeff- 
Jack  it  was  hard  on  you  that  the  despatches  got  your 
name  so  twisted.  It's  a  plumb  shame,  as  they  say." 
The  Major's  laugh  grew  rustic  as  he  glanced  from  Jeff- 
Jack,  red  with  resentment,  to  Judge  March,  lifted  half 
out  of  his  seat  with  emotion,  and  thence  to  the  child, 
still  gazing  on  the  young  hero  of  many  battles  and  one 
ballad. 

"Well,  that's  all  over;  we  can  only  hurry  along 
home  now,  and " 

"  Ah  !  President  Garnet,  is  it  all  over,  seh  ?  Is  it, 
Mr.  Jones  ?  "  " 

"  Can't  say,"  replied  Jeff-Jack,  with  his  down-drawn 
smile,  and  the  two  pairs  went  their  opposite  ways. 

As  the  Judge  loped  down  the  hot  turnpike  after  his 
distant  wagon,  his  son  turned  for  one  more  gaze  on  the 
young  hero,  his  hero  henceforth,  and  felt  the  blood  rush 
from  every  vein  to  his  heart  and  back  again  as  Mr. 


THE  MA  S  TER '  S  HOME-  COMING  2 1 

Kavenel  at  the  last  moment  looked  round  and  waved 
him  farewell.  Later  he  recalled  Major  Garnet's  offer  of 
his  daughter,  but : 

"  I  shall  never  marry,"  said  John  to  himself. 


V. 

THE  MASTER'S  HOME-COMING 

THE  Garnet  estate  was  far  from  baronial  in  its  ex 
tent.  Rosemont's  whole  area  was  scarcely  sixty  acres, 
a  third  of  which  was  wild  grove  close  about  three  sides 
of  the  dwelling.  The  house  was  of  brick,  large,  with 
many  rooms  in  two  tall  stories  above  a  basement.  At 
the  middle  of  the  north  front  was  a  square  Greek  porch 
with  wide  steps  spreading  to  the  ground.  A  hall  ex 
tended  through  and  let  out  upon  a  rear  veranda  that 
spanned  the  whole  breadth  of  the  house.  Here  two  or 
three  wrooden  pegs  jutted  from  the  wall,  on  which  to 
hang  a  saddle,  bridle,  or  gourd,  and  from  one  of  which 
always  dangled  a  small  cowhide  whip.  Barbara  and 
Johanna,  hand  in  hand — Johanna  was  eleven  and  very 
black — often  looked  on  this  object  with  whispering 
awe,  though  neither  had  ever  known  it  put  to  fiercer 
use  than  to  drive  chickens  out  of  the  hall.  Down  in 
the  yard,  across  to  the  left,  was  the  kitchen.  And 
lastly,  there  was  that  railed  platform  on  the  hip-roof, 
whence  one  could  see,  in  the  northeast,  over  the  tops  of 
the  grove,  the  hills  and  then  the  mountains ;  in  the 


22  JOHN  MARCH,   SOUTHERNER 

southeast  the  far  edge  of  Turkey  Creek  battle-ground  ; 
and  in  the  west,  the  great  setting  sun,  often,  from  this 
point,  commended  to  Barbara  as  going  to  bed  quietly 
and  before  dark. 

The  child  did  not  remember  the  father.  Once  or 
twice  during  the  Avar  when  otherwise  he  might  have 
come  home  on  furlough,  the  enemy  had  intervened. 
Yet  she  held  no  enthusiastic  unbelief  in  his  personal 
reality,  and  prayed  for  him  night  and  morning:  that 
God  would  bless  him  and  keep  him  from  being  naughty 
— "  No,  that  ain't  it — an'  keep  him  f 'om  bein' — no,  don't 
tell  me ! — and  ast  him  why  he  don't  come  see  what  a 
sweet  mom-a  I'm  dot !  " 

People  were  never  quite  done  marveling  that  even 
Garnet  should  have  won  the  mistress  of  this  inheritance, 
whom  no  one  else  had  ever  dared  to  woo.  Her  hair 
was  so  dark  you  might  have  called  it  black — her  eyes 
were  as  blue  as  June,  and  all  the  elements  of  her  out 
ward  beauty  were  but  the  various  testimonies  of  a  noble 
mind.  She  had  been  very  willing  for  Rosemont  to  be 
founded  here.  There  was  a  belief  in  her  family  that 
the  original  patentee — he  that  had  once  owned  the 
whole  site  of  Suez  and  more — had  really  from  the  first 
intended  this  spot  for  a  college  site,  and  when  Garnet 
proposed  that  with  his  savings  they  build  and  open 
upon  it  a  male  academy,  of  which  he  should  be  princi 
pal,  she  consented  with  an  alacrity  which  his  vanity 
never  ceased  to  resent,  since  it  involved  his  leaving  the 
pulpit.  For  Principal  Garnet  was  very  proud  of  his 
moral  character. 

On  the  same  afternoon  in  which  John  March  first 


THE  MA  S  TER '  S  HOME-  COMING  12 3 

saw  the  Major  and  Jeff-Jack,  Barbara  and  Johanna 
were  down  by  the  spring-house  at  play.  This  structure 
stood  a  good  two  hundred  yards  from  the  dwelling, 
where  a  brook  crossed  the  road.  Three  wooded  slopes 
ran  down  to  it,  and  beneath  the  leafy  arches  of  a 
hundred  green  shadows  that  only  at  noon  were 
flecked  with  sunlight,  the  water  glassed  and  crinkled 
scarce  ankle  deep  over  an  unbroken  floor  of  naked 
rock. 

The  pair  were  wading,  Barbara  in  the  road,  Johanna 
at  its  edge,  when  suddenly  Barbara  was  aware  of 
strange  voices,  and  looking  up,  wras  fastened  to  her  foot 
ing  by  the  sight  of  two  travelers  just  at  hand.  One 
was  on  horseback ;  the  other,  a  youth,  trod  the  step 
ping  stones,  ragged,  dusty,  but  bewilderingly  handsome. 
Johanna,  too,  heard,  came,  and  then  stood  like  Barbara, 
awe-stricken  and  rooted  in  the  water.  The  next  mo 
ment  there  was  a  whirl,  a  bound,  a  splash — and  Bar 
bara  was  alone.  Johanna,  with  three  leaping  strides, 
was  out  of  the  water,  across  the  fence,  and  scampering 
over  ledges  and  loose  stones  toward  the  house,  mad  with 
the  joy  of  her  news: 

"  Mahse  John  Wesley  !  Mahse  John  Wesley  !  " — 
up  the  front  steps,  into  the  great  porch  and  through  the 
hall— "Mahse  John  Wesley!  Mahse  John  Wesley! 
De  waugh  done  done !  De  waugh  ove'  dis  time  fo'  sho' ! 
Glory !  Glory !  " — down  the  back  steps,  into  the 
kitchen — "Mahse  John  Wesley !  " — out  again  and  off  to 
the  stables—"  Mahse  John  Wesley  !  "  While  old  Vir 
ginia  ran  from  the  kitchen  to  her  cabin  rubbing  the 
flour  from  her  arms  and  crying,  "  Tu'n  out !  tu'n  out, 


24  JOHN  MARCH,   SOUTHERNER 

--you  laazy  black  niggers!  Mahsc  John  Wesley  Gyar- 
net  a-comin'  up  de  road !  " 

Barbara  did  not  stir.  She  felt  the  soldier's  firm 
hands  under  her  arms,  and  her  own  form,  straightened 
and  rigid,  rising  to  the  glad  lips  of  the  disabled 
stranger  who  bent  from  the  saddle ;  but  she  kept  her 
eyes  on  the  earth.  With  her  dripping  toes  stiffened 
downward  and  the  youth  clasping  her  tightly,  they 
moved  toward  the  house.  In  the  grove  gate  the  horse 
man  galloped  ahead ;  but  Barbara  did  not  once  look 
up  until  at  the  porch-steps  she  saw  yellow  Willis,  the 
lame 'ploughman,  smiling  and  limping  forward  round 
the  corner  of  the  house ;  Trudie,  the  house  girl,  trying 
to  pass  him  by ;  Johanna  wildly  dancing ;  Aunt  Vir 
ginia,  her  hands  up,  calling  to  heaven  from  the  red 
cavern  of  her  mouth ;  Uncle  Leviticus,  her  husband, 
Cornelius's  step-father,  holding  the  pawing  steed  ;  glad 
ness  on  every  face,  and  the  mistress  of  Roseinont  drawing 
from  the  horseman's  arm  to  we  Iconic  her  ragged  guest. 

Barbara  gazed  on  the  bareheaded  men  and  courtesy- 
ing  women  grasping  the  hand  of  their  stately  master. 

"  Howdy,  Mahse  John  Wesley.  Welcome  home,  sah. 
Yass,  sah !  " 

"  Howdy,  Mahse  John  Wesley.  Yass,  sah  ;  dass  so, 
sot  free,  but  niggehs  yit,  te-he ! — an'  Roseinont  niggehs 
yit !  "  Chorus,  "  Dass  so  !  "  and  much  laughter. 

"Howdy,  Mahse  John  Wesley.     Miss  Rose  happy 

now,  an'  wrhensomever  she  happy,  us  happy.     Yass,  sah. 

De  good  Lawd  be  praise !     Kow  is  de  waugh  over  an' 

•    finish'    an'    eended    an'   gone ! "      Chorus,    "  Pra-aise 

Gawd!" 


THE  MA  S  TER '  S  HOME-  COMING  2  5 

The  master  replied.  He  was  majestically  kind.  He 
commended  their  exceptional  good  sense  and  prophesied 
a  reign  of  humble  trust  and  magnanimous  protection. — 
"But  I  see  you're  all — "  he  smiled  a  gracious  irony — 
"  anxious  to  get  back  to  work." 

They  laughed,  pushed  and  smote  one  another,  and 
went,  while  he  mounted  the  stairs ;  they,  strangers  to 
the  sufferings  of  his  mind,  and  he  as  ignorant  as  many  ^_ 
a  far  vaster  autocrat  of  the  profound  failure  of  his 
words  to  satisfy  the  applauding  people  he  left  below 
him. 

In  the  hall  Jeff-Jack  let  Barbara  down.  Thump- 
thump-thump — she  ran  to  find  Johanna.  A  fear  and  a 
hope  quite  filled  her  with  their  strife,  the  mortifying 
fear  that  at  the  brook  Mr.  Ravenel  had  observed — and 
the  reinspiring  hope  that  he  had  failed  to  observe — that 
she  was  without  shoes !  She  remained  away  for  some 
time,  and  came  back  shyly  in  softly  squeaking  leather. 
As  he  took  her  on  his  knee  she  asked,  carelessly : 

"Did  you  ever  notice  I'm  dot  socks  on  to-day?"  and 
when  he  cried  "  Xo !  "  and  stroked  them,  she  silently 
applauded  her  own  tact. 

Virginia  and  her  mistress  decided  that  the  supper 
would  have  to  be  totally  reconsidered — reconstructed. 
Jeff-Jack  and  Barbara,  the  reticule  on  her  arm,  walked 
in  the  grove  where  the  trees  were  few.  The  flat  out- 
croppings  of  gray  and  yellow  rocks  made  grotesque 
figures  in  the  grass,  and  up  from  among  the  cedar 
sprouts  turtle-doves  sprang  with  that  peculiar  music  of 
their  wings,  flew  into  distant  coverts,  and  from  one 
such  to  another  tenderly  complained  of  love's  alarms 


2  6  JOHN  MA  R  en,  so  u  i  -IIRRNER 

and  separations.  When  Barbara  asked  her  escort 
where  his  home  was,  he  said  it  was  going  to  be  in  Suez, 
and  on  cross-examination  explained  that  Flatrock  was 
only  a  small  plantation  where  his  sister  lived  and  took 
care  of  his  father,  who  was  old  and  sick. 

He  seemed  to  Barbara  to  be  very  easily  amused, 
even  laughing  at  some  things  she  said  which  she  did 
not  intend  for  jokes  at  all.  But  since  he  laughed  she 
laughed  too,  though  with  more  reserve.  They  picked 
wild  flowers.  He  gave  her  forget-me-nots. 

They  did  not  bring  their  raging  hunger  into  the 
house  again  until  the  large  tea-bell  rang  in  the  porch, 
and  the  air  was  rife  with  the  fragrance  of  Aunt  Vir 
ginia's  bounty:  fried  ham,  fried  eggs,  fried  chicken, 
strong  coffee,  and  hot  biscuits — of  fresh  Yankee  flour 
from  Suez.  No  wine,  and  no  tonic  before  sitting  down. 
In  the  pulpit  and  out  of  it  Garnet  had  ever  been  an 
ardent  advocate  of  total  abstinence.  He  never,  even  in 
his  own-  case,  set  aside  its  rigors  except  when  chilled 
or  fatigued,  and  always  then  took  ample  care  not 
to  let  his  action,  or  any  subsequent  confession,  be  a 
temptation  in  the  eyes  of  others  who  might  be  wreaker 
than  he. 

Barbara  sat  opposite  Jeff-Jack.  What  of  that? 
Johanna,  standing  behind  mom-a's  chair,  should  not 
have  smiled  and  clapped  her  hands  to  her  mouth. 
Barbara  ignored  her.  As  she  did  again,  after  supper, 
when,  silent,  on  the  young  soldier's  knee,  amid  an 
earnest  talk  upon  interests  too  public  to  interest  her,  she 
could  see  her  little  nurse  tiptoeing  around  the  door  out 
in  the  dim  hall,  grinning  in  white  gleams  of  summer 


THE  MA  S  TER '  S  HOME-  COMING  2  7 

lightning,  beckoning,  and  pointing  upstairs.     The  best 
way  to  treat  such  things  is  to  take  no  notice  of  them. 

In  the  bright  parlor  the  talk  was  still  on  public 
affairs.  The  war  was  over,  but  its  issues  were  still 
largely  in  suspense  and  were  not  questions  of  bounda 
ries  or  dynasties  ;  they  underlay  every  Southern  hearth 
stone  ;  the  possibilities  of  each  to-morrow  were  the 
personal  concern  and  distress  of  every  true  Southern 
man,  of  every  true  Southern  woman. 

Thus  spoke  Garnet.  His  strong,  emotional  voice 
was  the  one  most  heard.  Ravenel  held  Barbara,  and 
responded  scarcely  so  often  as  her  mother,  whose  gentle 
self-command  rested  him.  Not  such  was  its  effect  upon 
the  husband.  His  very  flesh  seemed  to  feel  the  smart- 
ings  of  trampled  aspirations  and  insulted  rights.  More  > 
than  once,  under  stress  of  his  sincere  though  florid  sen 
tences,  he  rose  proudly  to  his  feet  with  a  hand  laid 
unconsciously  on  his  freshly  bandaged  arm,  as  though 
all  the  pain  and  smart  of  the  times  were  centring  there, 
and  tried  good-naturedly  to  reflect  the  satirical  com 
posure  of  his  late  adjutant.  But  when  he  sought  to 
make  light  of  "  the  slings  and  arrows  of  outrageous  for 
tune,"  he  could  not  quite  hide  the  exasperation  of  a 
spirit  covered  with  their  contusions ;  and  when  he 
spoke  again,  he  frowned. 

Mrs.  Garnet  observed  Ravenel  with  secret  concern. 
Men  like  Garnet,  addicted  to  rhetoric,  have  a  way  of 
always  just  missing  the  vital  truth  of  things,  and  this  is 
what  she  believed  this  stripling  had,  in  the  intimacies 
of  the  headquarter's  tent,  discerned  in  him,  and  now  so 
mildly,  but  so  frequently,  smiled  at.  "Major  Garnet," 


2 8  JOHN  MA R CIS,  SOU THERNER 

she  said,  and  silently  indicated  that  some  one  was  wait 
ing  in  the  doorway.  The  Major,  standing,  turned  and 
saw,  faltering  with  conscious  overboldness  on  the  thres 
hold,  a  tawny  figure  whose  shoulders  stared  through 
the  rags  of  a  coarse  cotton  shirt ;  the  man  of  all  men  to 
whom  he  was  just  then  the  most  unprepared  to  show 
patience. 


VL 

TROUBLE 

OUTSIDE  it  wyas  growing  dark.  The  bright  red  dot 
that,  from  the  railed  housetop,  you  might  have  seen  on 
the  far  edge  of  Turkey  Creek  battle-ground,  was  a 
w^atch-fire  beside  the  blackberry  patch  we  know  of. 
Here  sat  Judge  March  guarding  his  wagon  and  mules. 
One  of  them  was  sick.  The  wagon,  under  a  load  of 
barreled  pork  and  general  supplies,  had  slumped  into 
a  hole  and  suffered  a  "  general  giving-way."  While  in 
Suez  the  Judge  had  paid  Cornelius  off,  written  a  note  to 
be  given  by  him  to  Major  Garnet,  and  agreed,  in  recog 
nition  of  his  abundant  worthlessness,  to  part  with  him 
from  date,  finally. 

Yet  the  magnanimous  Cornelius,  still  with  him  when 
the  wragon  broke,  went  back  to  Suez  for  help  and  horse 
medicine,  but  trifled  so  sadly,  or  so  gayly,  that  at  sun 
set  there  was  no  choice  but  to  wait  till  morning. 

John,  however,  had  to  be  sent  home.     But  how  ?     On 


TRO  URLE  29 

the  Judge's  horse,  behind  Cornelius  ?  The  father  hesi 
tated.  But  the  mulatto  showed  such  indignant  grief 
and  offered  such  large  promises,  the  child,  of  course,  sid 
ing  with  the  teamster,  and  after  all,  they  could  reach 
Widewood  so  soon  after  nightfall,  that  the  Judge  sent 
them.  From  Widewood,  Cornelius,  alone,  was  to  turn 
promptly  back 

"Well,  o'  co'se,  sah  !     Ain't  I  always  promp'  ?  "- 

Promptly  back  by  way  of  Rosemont,  leave  the  note 
there  and  then  bring  the  Judge's  horse  to  him  at  the 
camp-fire.  If  lights  were  out  at  Rosemont  he  could 
give  the  letter  to  some  servant  to  be  delivered  next 
morning. 

"  Good-bye,  son.  I  can't  hear  yo'  prayers  to-night. 
I'll  miss  it  myself.  But  if  yo'  dear  motheh  ain't  too 
ti-ud  maybe  she'll  hear  'em." 

It  suited  Cornelius  to  turn  aside  first  to  Rosemont. 

"  You  see,  Johnnie,  me  an'  Majo'  Gyarnet  is  got  some 
ve'y  urgen'  business  to  transpiah.  An'  den  likewise  an' 
mo'oveh,  here's  de  triflin'  matteh  o'  dis  letteh.  What 
contents  do  hit  contain  ?  I's  done  yo'  paw  a  powerful 
favo',  an'  yit  I  has  a  sneakin'  notion  dat  herein  yo'  paw 
express  hisseif  wid  great  lassitude  about  me.  An'  thus, 
o'  co'se,  I  want  to  know  it  befo'  ban,'  caze  ef  a  man  play 
you  a  trick  you  don't  want  to  pay  him  wid  a  favo'. 
Trick  fo'  trick,  favo'  fo'  favo',  is  de  rule  of  Cawnelius 
Leggett,  Esquire,  freedm an,  an' ef  I  fines,  when  Majo' 
Gyarnet  read  dis-yeh  letteh,  dat  yo'  paw  done  inter- 
callate  me  a  trick,  I  jist  predestinatured  to  git  evm  wid 
bofe  of 'm  de  prompes'  way  I  kin.  You  neveh  seed  me 
mad,  did  you  ?  Well,  when  you  see  Cawnelius  Leggett 


30  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

mad  you  wants  to  rim  an'  hide.     He  wou'n't  liu't  a  chile 
no  mo'n  he'd  hu't  a  chicken,  but  ef  dere's  a  man  in  de 
,    way — jis'  on'y  in  de  way — an'  specially  a  white  man — 
Lawd !  he  betteh  teck  a  tree ! " 

The  windows  of  Rosemont  had  for  some  time  been  red 
with  lamplight  when  they  fastened  their  horse  to  a 
swinging  limb  near  the  springhouse  and  walked  up 
through  the  darkening  grove  to  the  kitchen.  Virginia 
received  her  son  with  querulous  surprise.  "  Gawd's  own 
fool,"  she  called  him,  "  full  runnin'  off,  an'  de  same  fool 
double'  an'  twisted  fo'  slinkin'  back."  But  when  he 
arrogantly  showed  the  Judge's  letter  she  lapsed  into 
silent  disdain  while  she  gave  him  an  abundant  supper. 
After  a  time  the  child  was  left  sitting  beside  the  kitchen 
fire,  holding  an  untasted  biscuit.  Throughout  the  yard 
and  quarters  there  was  a  stillness  that  was  not  sleep, 
though  Virginia  alone  was  out-of-doors,  standing  on  the 
moonlit  veranda  looking  into  the  hall. 

She  heard  Major  Garnet  ask,  with  majestic  forbear 
ance,  "Well,  Cornelius,  what  do  you  want?" 

The  teamster  advanced  with  his  ragged  hat  in  one 
hand  and  the  letter  in  the  other.  The  Major,  flushing 
red,  lifted  his  sound  arm,  commandingly,  and  the  mulatto 
stopped.  "  Boy,  can  it  be  that  in  my  presence  and  in 
the  presence  of  your  mistress  you  dare  attempt  to  change 
,  the  manners  you  were  raised  to  ?  " 

Cornelius  opened  his  mouth  with  great  pretense  of 
ignorance,  but 

"  Go  back  and  drop  that  hat  outside  the  door,  sir  !  " 
The  servant  went. 

"  Now,  bring  me  that  letter !  "     The  bearer  brought 


TROUBLE  31 

it  and  stood  waiting  while  the  Major  held  it  under  his 
lame  arm  and  tore  it  open. 

Judge  March  wrote  that  he  had  found  a  way  to  dis 
pense  with  Cornelius  at  once,  but  his  main  wish  was  to 
express  tne  hope — having  let  a  better  opportunity  slip — 
that  President  Garnet  as  the  "  person  best  fitted  in  all 
central  Dixie  to  impart  to  Southern  youth  a  purely 
Southern  education,"  would  reopen  Rosemont  at  once, 
and  to  promise  his  son  to  the  college  as  soon  as  he 
should  be  old  enough. 

But  for  two  things  the  Major  might  have  felt  soothed. 
One  was  a  feeling  that  Cornelius  had  in  some  way  made 
himself  unpleasant  to  the  Judge,  and  this  grew  to  con 
viction  as  his  nostrils  caught  the  odor  of  strong  drink. 
He  handed  the  note  to  his  wife. 

"  Judge  March  is  always  complimentary.  Read  it  to 
Jeff-  Jack.  Cornelius,  I'll  see  you  for  a  moment  on  the 
back  gallery."  His  wife  tried  to  catch  his  eye,  but  a 
voice  within  him  commended  him  to  his  own  self-com 
mand,  and  he  passed  down  the  hall,  the  mulatto  follow 
ing.  Johanna,  crouching  and  nodding  against  the  wall, 
straightened  up  as  he  passed.  His  footfall  sounded  hope 
to  the  strained  ear  of  the  Judge's  son  in  the  kitchen. 
Virginia  slipped  away.  In  the  veranda,  under  the  moon 
light,  Garnet  turned  and  said,  in  a  voice  almost  friendly : 

"  Cornelius." 

"  Yass,  sah." 

"  Cornelius,  why  did  you  go  off  and  hire  yourself  out, 
sir  ? " 

At  the  last  word  the  small  listener  in  the  kitchen 
trembled. 


32  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

"Dass  jess  what  I  'How  to  'splain  to  you,  sah." 

"  It  isn't  necessary.  Cornelius,  you  know  that  if  ever 
one  class  of  human  beings  owed  a  lifelong  gratitude  to 
another,  you  negroes  owe  it  to  your  old  masters,  don't 
you  ?  Stop  !  don't  you  dare  to  say  no  ?  Here  you  all 
are ;  never  has  one  of  you  felt  a  pang  of  helpless  hunger 
or  lain  one  day  with  a  neglected  fever.  Food,  clothing, 
shelter,  you've  never  suffered  a  day's  doubt  about  them  J 
No  other  laboring  class  ever  were  so  free  from  the  cares 
of  life.  Your  fellow-servants  have  shown  some  grati 
tude  ;  they've  stayed  with  their  mistress  till  I  got  home 
to  arrange  with  them  under  these  new  conditions.  But 
you — you !  when  I  let  you  push  on  ahead  and  leave 
me  sick  and  wounded  and  only  half  way  home — your 
home  and  mine,  Cornelius — with  your  promise  to  wait 
here  till  I  could  come  and  retain  you  on  wages — you,  in 
pure  wantonness,  must  lift  up  your  heels  and  prance 
away  into  your  so-called  new  liberty.  You're  a  fair  sam 
ple  of  wrhat's  to  come,  Cornelius.  You've  spent  your 
first  wages  for  whiskey.  Silence,  you  perfidious  rep 
tile  ! 

"  Oh,  Cornelius,  you  needn't  dodge  in  that  way,  sir, 
I'm  not  going  to  take  you  to  the  stable  ;  thank  God  I'm 
done  whipping  you  and  all  your  kind,  for  life !  Cor 
nelius,  I've  only  one  business  with  you  and  it's  only 
one  word !  Go !  at  once !  forever  !  You  should  go  if 

it  were  only Cornelius,  I've  been  taking  care  of  my 

own  horse  !  Don't  you  dare  to  sleep  on  these  premises 
to-night.  Wait !  Tell  me  what  you've  done  to  offend 
Judge  March  ?  " 

"  Why,  Mahse  John  Wesley,  I  ain't  done  nothin'  to 


TROUBLE  33 

Jedge  Mahch ;  no,  sah,  neither  defensive  nor  yit  offen 
sive.  An'  yit  mo',  I  ain't  dream  o'  causin'  you  sich 
uprisin'  lie'plessness.  Me  and  Jedge  Mahch  " — he  began  , 
to  swell — "  has  had  a  stric'ly  private  disparitude  on  the 
subjec'  o'  extry  wages,  account'n  o'  his  disinterpretations 
o'  my  plans  an'  his  ign'ance  o'  de  law."  He  tilted  his 
face  and  gave  himself  an  argumentative  frown  of 
matchless  insolence.  "  You  see,  my  deah  seh " 

Garnet  was  wearily  turning  his  head  from  side  to  side 
as  if  in  unspeakable  pain  ;  a  sudden  movement  of  his  free 
arm  caused  the  mulatto  to  flinch,  but  the  ex-master  said, 
quietly  : 

"  Go  on,  Cornelius." 

"Yass.     You  see,  Major,  sence  dis  waugh  done  put 

us  all  on  a  sawt  of  equality "     The  speaker  flinched^ 

again. 

"  Great  Heaven  !  "  groaned  the  Major.  "  Cornelius, 
why,  Cor — «elius !  you  viper !  if  it  were  not  for  dis 
honoring  my  own  roof  I'd  thrash  you  right  here.  I've 
a  good  notion " 

"  Ow !  leggo  me  !  I  ain't  gwine  to  'low  no  daym 
rebel " 

Ravenelj  stroking  Barbara  and  talking  to  Mrs.  Gar 
net,  saw  his  hostess  start  and  then  try  to  attend  to  his 
words,  while  out  on  the  veranda  rang  notes  of  fright 
and  pain. 

"  Oh  !  don't  grabble  my  whole  bres'  up  dat  a-way, 
sah!  Please  sah  !  Oh  !  don't !  You  ain't  got  no  mo' 
right!  Oh!  Lawd !  Mahse  John  Wesley!  Oh! 
good  Lawdy  !  yo'  han'  bites  like  a  dawg  !  " 

Ravenel  paused  in   his  talk  to  ask  Barbara  about 


34  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

the  sandman,  but  the  child  stared  wildly  at  her  mother. 
Johanna  reappeared  in  the  door  with  a  scared  face  ; 
Barbara  burst  into  loud  weeping,  and  her  nurse  bore 
her  away  crying  and  bending  toward  her  mother,  while 
from  the  veranda  the  wail  poured  in. 

"  Oh  !  Oh  !  don't  resh  me  back  like  that !  Oh  !  Oh  ! 
my  Gawd !  Oh  !  you'll  bre'k  de  balusters  !  Oh  !  my 
Gawd-A'mighty,  my  back  ;  Mahse  John  Wesley,  you 
a-breakin'  my  back!  Oh,  good  Lawd  'a'  mussy !  my 
po'  back  !  my  po'  back !  Oh  !  don't  dra — ag — you 
ain't  a-needin'  to  drag  me.  I'll  walk,  Mahse  John 
Wesley,  I'll  walk  !  Oh  !  you  a-scrapin'  my  knees  oft1 ! 
Oh!  dat  whip  ain't  over  dah !  You  can't  re'ch  it 

down  ! — ef  I  bite "  There  was  a  silent  instant  and 

the  mulatto  screamed. 

With  sinking  knees  a  small  form  slipped  from  the 
kitchen  and  ran — fell — rose — and  ran  again  across  the 
moonlight  and  into  the  grove  toward  the  spring-house. 

Barbara's  crying  increased.     Ravenel  said  : 

"Don't  let  me  keep  you  from  the  baby" — while 
outside : 

"  Oh !  I  didn't  mean  to  bite  you,  sweet  Mahse  John 
Wesley.  To'  Gawd  I — oh  ! — o — oh — h — you  broke 
my  knees !  " 

"If  you'll  excuse  me,"  said  the  mother,  and  went 
upstairs. 

"  Oh !  mussy !  mussy  !  yo'  foot  a-mashing  my  whole 
breas'  in' !  Oh,  my  Gaw^d !  De  Yankees  '11  git  win'  o' 
dis  an'  you'll  go  to  jail !  " 

The  lash  fell.  "  0— oh !— o— oh  !  Oh,  Lawd  !  "  Jeff- 
Jack  sat  still  and  once  or  twice  smiled.  "  Oh,  Lawd  'a' 


TROUBLE  35 

mussy  !   my  back  !     Ow  !     It  bu'ns  like  fiah  ! — o — oh  ! 
— oh  ! — ow  !  " 

"It  doesn't  hurt  as  bad  as  it  ought  to,  Cornelius," 
and  the  blows  came  again. 

"  Ow  !  Dey  won't  git  win'  of  it !  'Deed  an  'deedy 
dcy  won't,  sweet  Mahse  John  Wesley  ! — oh  ! — o — oh  ! 
— Ow  ! — Oh,  Lawd,  come  down !  Dey  des  shan't  git 
win'  of  it !  'fo'  Gawd  dey  shan't !  Ow  ! — oh  ! — oh  ! — 
oh  ! — a — ah — oo — oo  !  " 

"  Xow,  go  !  "  said  Garnet.  Cornelius  leaped  up,  ran 
with  his  eyes  turned  back  on  the  whip,  and  fell  again, 
wallowing  like  a  scalded  dog.  "  Oh,  my  po'  back,  my 
po'  back!  M — oh  !  it's  a-bu'nin'  up — oh!  " 

The  Major  advanced  with  the  broken  whip  uplifted. 
Cornelius  ran  backward  to  the  steps  and  rolled  clear  to 
the  ground.  The  whip  was  tossed  after  him.  With  a 
gnashing  curse  he  snatched  it  up  and  hurried  off, 
moaning  and  writhing,  into  the  darkness,  down  by  the 
spring-house. 

Garnet  smiled  in  scorn,  far  from  guessing  that  soon, 
almost  as  soon  as  yonder  receding  clatter  of  hoofs ; 
should  pass  into  silence,  the  venomous  thing  from 
which  he  had  lifted  his  heel  would  coil  and  strike,  and 
that  another  back,  a  little  one  that  had  never  felt  the 
burden  of  a  sin  or  a  task,  or  aught  heavier  than  the 
sun's  kiss,  was  to  take  its  turn  at  writhing  and  burning 
like  fire. 

The  memory  of  that  hour,  when  it  was  over  and 
home  was  reached,  was  burnt  into  the  child's  mind  for 
ever.  It  was  then  late.  Mrs.  March,  "  never  strong," 
and, — wTith  a  sigh, — "  never  anxious,"  had  retired.  Her 


36  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

two  handmaids,  freedwomen,  were  new  to  the  place,  but 
already  fond  of  her  son.  Cornelius  found  them  waiting 
uneasily  at  the  garden-fence.  He  had  lingered  and 
toiled  with  the  Judge  and  his  broken  wagon,  he  said, 
"  notwithstandin'  we  done  dissolve,"  until  he  had  got 
the  worst  "  misery  in  his  back  "  he  had  ever  suffered. 
When  they  received  John  from  him  and  felt  the 
child's  tremblings,  he  warned  them  kindly  that  the  less 
asked  about  it  the  better  for  the  reputations  of  both 
the  boy  and  his  father. 

"  You  can't  'spute  the  right  an'  custody  of  a  man  to 
his  own  son's  chastisement,  naw  yit  to  'low  to  dat  son 
dat  ef  ever  he  let  his  maw  git  win'  of  it,  he  give  him 
double  an'  thribble." 

When  the  women  told  him  he  lied  he  appealed  to 
John,  and  the  child  nodded  his  head.  About  midnight 
Cornelius  handed  the  horse  over  to  Judge  March, 
reassuring  him  of  his  son's  safety  and  comfort,  and 
hurried  off,  much  pleased  with  the  length  of  his  own 
head  in  that  he  had  not  stolen  the  animal.  John  fell 
asleep  almost  as  soon  as  he  touched  the  pillow.  Then 
the  maid  who  had  undressed  him  beckoned  the  other  in. 
Candle  in  hand  she  led  the  way  to  the  trundle-bed 
drawn  out  from  under  the  Judge's  empty  four-poster, 
and  sat  upon  its  edge.  The  child  lay  chest  downward. 
She  lifted  his  gown,  and  exposed  his  back. 

"  Good  GawTd !  "  whispered  the  other. 


&XODUS  37 


EXODUS 

As  Major  Garnet's  step  sounded  again  in  the  hall, 
Barbara's  crying  came  faintly  down  through  the  closed 
doors.  He  found  Ravenel  sitting  by  the  lamp,  turning 
the  spotted  leaves  of  Heber's  poems. 

"Mrs.  Garnet  putting  Barb  to  bed?"  he  asked,  and 
slowly  took  an  easy  chair.  His  arm  was  aching 
cruelly. 

"  Yes."     The  young  guest  stretched  and  smiled. 

The  host  was  silent.  He  was  willing  to  stand  by 
what  he  had  done,  but  that  this  young  friend  with  lower 
moral  pretensions  wholly  approved  it  made  his  com 
pany  an  annoyance.  What  he  craved  was  unjust 
censure.  "  I  reckon  you'd  like  to  go  up,  too,  wouldn't 
you?  It's  camp  bedtime." 

"  Yes,  got  to  come  back  to  sleeping  in-doors — might 
as  well  begin." 

On  the  staircase  they  met  Johanna,  with  a  lighted 
candle.  The  Major  said,  as  kindly  as  a  father,  "  I'll 
take  that," 

As  she  gave  it  her  eyes  rolled  whitely  up  to  his,  tears 
slipped  down  her  black  cheeks,  he  frowned,  and  she 
hurried  away.  At  his  guest's  door  he  said  a  pleasant 
good-night,  and  then  went  to  his  wife's  room. 

Only  moonlight  was  there.  From  a  small,  dim 
chamber  next  to  it  came  Barbara's  softened  moan. 
The  mother  sang  low  a  child  hymn.  The  father  sat 


38  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

down  at  a  window,  and  strove  to  meditate.  But  his 
arm  ached.  The  mother  sang  on,  and  presently  he 
found  himself  waiting  for  the  fourth  stanza.  It  did  not 
come ;  the  child  was  still ;  but  his  memory  supplied  it : 

"  And  soon,  too  soon,  the  wintry  hour 

Of  man's  maturcr  age 
May  shake  the  soul  with  sorrow's  power, 
And  stormy  passion's  rage." 

He  felt,  but  put  aside,  the  implication  of  reproach  to 
himself  which  lay  in  the  words  and  his  wife's  avoidance 
of  them.  He  still  believed  that,  angry  and  unpremedi 
tated  as  his  act  was,  he  could  not  have  done  otherwise 
in  justice  nor  yet  in  mercy.  And  still,  through  this 
right  doing,  what  bitterness  had  come!  His  wife's, 
child's,  guest's — his  own — sensibilities  had  been  pain 
fully  shocked.  In  the  depths  of  a  soldier's  sorrow  for 
a  cause  loved  and  lost,  there  had  been  the  one  consola 
tion  that  the  unasked  freedom  so  stupidly  thrust 
upon  these  poor  slaves  was  in  certain  aspects  an  eman- 
A  cipation  to  their  masters.  Yet  here,  before  his  child 
had  learned  to  fondle  his  cheek,  or  his  home-coming 
was  six  hours  old,  his  first  night  of  peace  in  beloved 
Rosemont  had  been  blighted  by  this  vile  ingrate  forc 
ing  upon  him  the  exercise  of  the  only  discipline,  he 
fully  believed,  for  which  such  a  race  of  natural  slaves 
could  have  a  wholesome  regard.  The  mother  sang 
again,  murmurously.  The  soldier  grasped  his  suffering 
arm,  and  returned  to  thought. 

The  war,  his  guest  had  said,  had  not  taken  the 
slaves  away.  It  could  only  redistribute  them,  under  a 


EXODUS  39 

new  bondage  of  wages  instead  of  the  old  bondage  of 
pure  force.  True.  And  the  best  and  the  wisest  ser 
vants  would  now  fall  to  the  wisest  and  kindest  masters. 
Oh,  for  power  to  hasten  to-morrow's  morning,  that  he 


might  call  to  him  again  that  menial  band  down  in  the 


f- 

yard,  speak  to  them  kindly,  even  of  Cornelius's  fault, 
bid  them  not  blame  the  outcast  resentfully,  and 
assure  them  that  never  while  love  remained  stronger  in 
them  than  pride,  need  they  shake  the  light  dust  of 
Rosemont  from  their  poor  shambling  feet.  \ 

He  rose,  stole  to  the  door  of  the  inner  room,  pushed 
it  noiselessly,  and  went  in.  Barbara,  in  her  crib,  was 
hidden  by  her  mother  standing  at  her  side.  The  wife 
turned,  glanced  at  her  husband's  wounded  arm,  and 
made  a  soft  gesture  for  him  to  keep  out  of  sight.  The 
child  was  leaning  against  her  mother,  saying  the  last 
words  of  her  own  prayer. 

"  An'  Dod  bless  cv'ybody,  Uncle  Leviticus,  an'  Aunt 
Jinny,  an'  Johanna,  an'  Willis,  an'  Trudie,  an'  C'ne- 
lius  " — a  sigh — "  an  mom-a,  an' — that's  all — an' " 

"  And  pop-a  ?  " 

No  response.  The  mother  prompted  again.  Still 
the  child  was  silent.  "  And  pop-a,  you  know — the  best 
last." 

"  An'  Dod  bless  the  best  last,"  said  Barbara,  sadly. 
A  pause. 

"  Don't  you  know  all  good  little  girls  ask  God  to 
bless  their  pop-a's  ?  " 

"  Do  they  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Dod   bless   pop-a,"  she  sighed,  dreamily;  "an'  Dod 


40  JOHN  MARCH,  SOL'TIIRRNER 

bless  me,  too,  an' — an'  keep  me  f'oni  bein'  a  dood  little 
diii. — Ma'am? — Yes,  ma'am.  Amen." 

She  laid  her  head  down,  and  in  a  moment  was  asleep. 
Husband  and  wife  passed  out  together.  The  wounded 
arm,  its  pain  unconfessed,  was  cared  for,  pious  prayers 
were  said,  and  the  pair  lay  down  to  slumber. 

Far  in  the  night  the  husband  awoke.  He  could 
think  better  now,  in  the  almost  perfect  stillness.  There 
were  faint  signs  of  one  or  two  servants  being  astir,  but 
in  the  old  South  that  was  always  so.  He  pondered 
1"  again  upon  the  present  and  the  future  of  the  unhappy 
race  upon  whom  freedom  had  come  as  a  wild  freshet. 
Thousands  must  sink,  thousands  starve,  for  all  were 
drunk  with  its  cruel  delusions.  Yea,  on  this  deluge 
the  whole  Southern  social  world,  with  its  two  distinct 
divisions — the  shining  upper — the  dark  nether — was 
reeling  and  careening,  threatening,  each  moment,  to 
turn  once  and  forever  wrong  side  up,  a  hope-forsaken 
j_  wreck.  To  avert  this,  to  hold  society  on  its  keel,  must 
be  the  first  and  constant  duty  of  whoever  saw,  as  he  did, 
the  fearful  peril.  So,  then,  this  that  he  had  done — and 
prayed  that  he  might  never  have  to  do  again — was, 
underneath  all  its  outward  hideousness,  a  more  than 
right,  a  generous,  deed.  For  a  man  who,  taking  all 
the  new  risks,  still  taught  these  poor,  base,  dangerous 
creatures  to  keep  the  only  place  they  could  keep  with 
safety  to  themselves  or  their  superiors,  was  to  them  the 
J-  only  truly  merciful  man. 

He  drifted  into  revery.  Thoughts  came  so  out  of 
harmony  with  this  line  of  reasoning  that  he  could  only 
dismiss  them  as  vagaries.  Was  sleep  returning  ?  No, 


EXODUS  41 

he  laid  wide  awake,  frowning  with  the  pain  of  his 
wound.  Yet  he  must  have  drowsed  at  last,  for  when 
suddenly  he  sawT  his  wife  standing,  draped  in  some  dark 
wrapping,  hearkening  at  one  of  the  open  windows,  the 
moon  was  sinking. 

He  sat  up  and  heard  faintly,  far  afield,  the  voices  of 
Leviticus,  Virginia,  Willis,  Trudie,  and  Johanna,  sing 
ing  one  of  the  wild,  absurd,  and  yet  passionately  signifi 
cant  hymns  of  the  Negro  Christian  worship.  Distance 
drowned  the  words,  but  an  earlier  familiarity  supplied 
them  to  the  grossly  syncopated  measures  of  the  tune 
which,  soft  and  clear,  stole  in  at  the  open  window : 

"  Rise  in  dat  mawnin',  an'  rise  in  dat  mawnhV, 
Rise  in  dat  raawnin',  an'  fall  upon  yo'  knees. 
Bow  low,  an'  a-bow  low,  an'  a-bow  low  a  little  bit  longah, 
Bow  low,  an'  a-bow  low;  sich  a  conquerm'  king  !" 

The  eyes  of  wife  and  husband  met  in  a  long  gaze. 

"  They're  coming  this  way,"  he  faltered. 

She  slowly  shook  her  head. 

"My  love — "  But  she  motioned  for  silence  and  said, 
solemnly :  i 

"  They're  leaving  us." 

"  They're  wrong  !  "  he  murmured  in  grieved  indigna 
tion. 

"  Oh,  who  is  right  ?  "   she  sadly  asked. 

"  They  shall  not  treat  us  so  !  "  exclaimed  he.  He 
would  have  sprung  to  his  feet,  but  she  turned  upon  him 
suddenly,  uplifting  her  hand,  and  with  a  ring  in  her 
voice  that  made  the  walls  of  the  chamber  ring  back, 
cried, 


42  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

"  No,  no  !  Let  them  go !  They  were  mine  when 
they  were  property,  and  they  are  mine  now !  Let  them 
go!" 

The  singing  ceased.  The  child  in  the  next  room  had 
not  stirred.  The  dumfounded  husband  sat  motionless 
under  pretence  of  listening.  His  wife  made  a  despair 
ing  gesture.  He  motioned  to  hearken  a  moment  more  ; 
but  no  human  sound  sent  a  faintest  ripple  across  the 
breathless  air ;  the  earth  was  as  silent  as  the  stars. 
Still  he  waited — in  vain — they  were  gone. 

The  soldier  and  his  wife  lay  down  once  more  without 
a  word.  There  was  no  more  need  of  argument  than  of 
accusation.  For  in  those  few  moments  the  weight  of 
his  calamities  had  broken  through  into  the  under  quick 
sands  of  his  character  and  revealed  them  to  himself. 


VIII. 

SEVEN    YEARS    OF    SUNSHINE 

POETS  and  painters  make  darkness  stand  for  oblivion. 
But  for  evil  things  or  sad  there  is  no  oblivion  like 
sunshine. 

The  next  day  was  hot,  blue,  and  fragrant.  John 
rose  so  late  that  he  had  to  sit  up  in  front  of  his  break 
fast  alone.  He  asked  the  maid  near  by  if  she  thought 
his  father  would  be  home  soon.  She  "  reckoned  so." 

"I  wish  he  would  be  home  in  a  hour,"  he  mused, 


SEVEN   YEARS  OF  SUNSHINE  43 

aloud.  "  I  wish  lie  would  be  on  the  mountain  road 
right  now." 

When  he  stepped  down  and  started  away  she  crouched 
before  him. 

"  Whali  you  bound  full,  ole  gen'leman,  lookin'  so 
sawt  o'  funny-sad  ?  " 

"I  dunno." 

"Wat  you  gwine  do,  boss?" 

"  I  dunno." 

"  Well,  cayn't  you  kiss  me,  Mist'  I-dunno  ?  " 

fie  paid  the  toll  and  passed  out  to  his  play.  With 
an  old  bayonet  fixed  on  a  stick  he  fell  to  killing  Yan 
kees — colored  troops.  Pressing  them  into  the  woods  he 
charged,  yelling,  and  came  out  upon  the  mountain  road 
that  led  far  down  to  the  pike.  Here  a  new  impulse 
took  him  and  he  moved  down  this  road  to  form  a  junc 
tion  with  his  father.  For  some  time  the  way  was 
comparatively  level.  By  and  by  he  came  to  heavier 
timber  and  deeper  and  steeper  descents.  He  went  ever 
more  and  more  loiteringly,  for  his  father  did  not  appear. 
He  thought  of  turning  back,  yet  his  longing  carried  him 
forward.  He  was  tired,  but  his  mother  did  not  like 
him  to  walk  long  distances  when  lie  was  tired,  so  it 
wouldn't  be  right  to  turn  back.  He  decided  to  wait  for 
his  father  and  ride  home. 

Meantime  he  would  go  to  the  next  turn  in  the 
road  and  look.  He  looked  in  vain.  And  so  at  the 
next — the  next — the  next.  He  went  slowly,  for  his 
feet  were  growing  tender.  Sometimes  he  almost  caught 
a  butterfly.  Sometimes  he  slew  more  Yankees.  Always 
he  talked  to  himself  with  a  soft  bumbling  like  a  bee's. 


44  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

But  at  last  he  ceased  even  this  and  sat  down  at  the 
edge  of  the  stony  road  ready  to  cry.  His  bosom  had 
indeed  begun  to  heave,  when  in  an  instant  all  was 
changed.  Legs  forgot  their  weariness,  the  heart  its 
dismay,  for  just  across  the  road,  motionless  beside  a 
hollow  log,  what  should  he  see  but  a  cotton-tail  rabbit. 
As  he  stealthily  reached  for  his  weapon  the  cotton-tail 
took  two  slow  hops  and  went  into  the  log.  Charge 
bayonets ! — pat-pat-pat — slam  !  and  the  stick  rattled  in 
the  hole,  the  deadly  iron  at  one  end  and  the  deadly 
boy  at  the  other. 

And  yet  nothing  was  impaled.  Singular !  He  got 
his  eyes  to  the  hole  and  glared  in,  but  although  it  was 
full  of  daylight  from  a  larger  hole  at  the  other  end,  he 
could  see  no  sign  of  life.  It  baffled  comprehension. 
But  so  did  it  defy  contradiction.  There  was  but  one 
resource :  to  play  the  rabbit  was  still  there  and  only  to 
be  got  out  by  rattling  the  bayonet  every  other  moment 
and  repeating,  in  a  sepulchral  voice,  "  I — I — I'm  gwine 
to  have  yo'  meat  fo'  dinneh  !  " 

He  had  been  doing  this  for  some  time  when  all  at 
once  his  blood  froze  as  another  voice,  fifteen  times  as 
big  as  his,  said,  in  his  very  ear — 

"  I — I — I'm  gwine  to  have  yo'  meat  fo'  dinneh." 

He  dropped  half  over,  speechless,  and  beheld  stand 
ing  above  him,  nineteen  feet  high  as  well  as  he  could 
estimate  hastily,  a  Yankee  captain  mounted  and  in  full 
uniform.  John  leaped  up,  and  remembered  he  was  in 
gray. 

"What  are  you  doing  here  all  alone,  Shorty?" 

"  I  dunno." 


SEVEN   YEARS  OF  SUNSHINE  45 

"  Who  are  you  ?     What's  your  name  ?  " 

"  I  dunno." 

The  Captain  moved  as  if  to  draw  his  revolver,  but 
brought  forth  instead  a  large  yellow  apple.  Then  did 
John  confess  who  he  was  and  why  there.  The  Captain 
did  as  much  on  his  part. 

Pie  had  risen  with  the  morning  star  to  do  an  errand 
beyond  Widewood,  and  was  now  getting  back  to  Suez. 
This  very  dawn  he  had  made  Judge  March's  acquaint 
ance  beside  his  broken  wagon,  and  had  seen  him  ride 
toward  Suez  to  begin  again  the  repair  of  his  disasters. 
Would  the  small  Confederate  like  to  ride  behind  him  ? 

Very  quickly  John  gave  an  arm  and  was  struggling 
up  behind  the  saddle.  The  Captain  touched  the  child's 
back. 

"Owch!" 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter  ?     Did  I  hurt  you  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

The  horse  took  his  new  burden  unkindly,  plunged 
and  danced. 

"  Afraid  ?  "  asked  the  Captain.  John's  eyes  sparkled 
merrily  and  he  shook  his  head. 

"  You're  a  pretty  brave  boy,  aren't  you  ?  "  said  the 
stranger.  But  John  shook  his  head  again. 

"  I'll  bet  you  are,  and  a  tol'able  good  boy,  too,  aren't 
you  ? " 

"  No,  sir,  I'm  not  a  good  boy,  I'm  bad.  I'm  a  very 
bad  boy,  indeed." 

The  horseman  laughed.  "  I  don't  mistrust  but  you're 
good  enough." 

"  Oh,  no.     I'm  not  good.     I'm  wicked !     I'm  noisy  \ 


46  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

I  make  my  ma's  head  ache  every  day  !  I  usen't  to  be 
so  wicked  when  I  was  a  little  shaver.  I  used  to  be  a 
shaver,  did  you  know  that?  But  now  I'm  a  boy. 
That's  because  I'm  eight.  I'm  a  boy  and  I'm  wicked. 
I'm  awful  wicked,  and  I'm  getting  worse.  I  whistle. 
Did  you  think  I  could  whistle  ?  Well,  I  can.  .  . 
There !  did  you  hear  that  ?  It's  wicked  to  whistle  in 
the  house — to  whistle  loud — in  the  house — it's  sinful. 
Sometimes  I  whistle  in  the  house — sometimes."  He 
grew  still  and  fell  to  thinking  of  his  mother,  and  how 
her  cheek  would  redden  with  something  she  called  sor 
row  at  his  shameless  companioning  with  the  wearer  of 
a  blue  uniform.  But  he  continued  to  like  his  new 
friend ;  he  was  so  companionably  "  low  flung." 

"Do  you  know  Jeff-Jack?"  he  asked.  But  the 
Captain  had  not  the  honor. 

"  Well,  he  captures  things.  He's  brave.  He's 
dreadful  brave." 

"  No  !     Aw !  you  just  want  to  scare  me !  " 

"So  is  Major  Garnet.  Did  you  ever  see  Major 
Garnet  ?  Well,  if  you  see  him  you  mustn't  make  him 
mad.  I'd  be  afraid  for  you  to  make  him  mad." 

"  Why,  how's  that  ?  " 

"  I  dunno,"  said  Johnnie,  very  abstractedly. 

As  they  went  various  questions  came  up,  and  by  and 
by  John  discoursed  on  the  natural  badness  of "  black 
folks  " — especially  the  yellow  variety — with  imper- 
fections  of  reasoning  almost  as  droll  as  the  soft  dragging 
of  his  vowels.  Time  passed  so  pleasantly  that  when 
they  came  into  the  turnpike  and  saw  his  father  coming 
across  the  battle-field  with  two  other  horsemen,  his  good 


SEVEN   YEARS  OF  SUNSHINE  47 

spirits  hardly  had  room  to  rise  any  higher.  They 
rather  fell.  The  Judge  had  again  chanced  upon  the 
company  of  Major  Garnet  and  Jeff- Jack  Ravenel,  and 
it  disturbed  John  perceptibly  for  three  such  men  to  find 
him  riding  behind  a  Yankee. 

It  was  a  double  surprise  for  him  to  see,  first,  with 
what  courtesy  they  treated  the  blue-coat,  and  then  how 
soon  they  bade  him  good-day.  The  Federal  had 
smilingly  shown  a  flask. 

"  You  wouldn't  fire  on  a  flag  of  truce,  would  you  ?  " 

"  I  never  drink,"  said  Garnet. 

"And  I  always  take  too  much,"  responded  Jeff- 
Jack. 

I  think  we  have  spoken  of  John's  slumbers  being 
dreamless.  A  child  can  afford  to  sleep  without  dream 
ing,  he  has  plenty  of  dreams  without  sleeping.  No 
need  to  tell  what  days,  weeks,  months,  of  sunlit,  forest- 
shaded,  bird-serenaded,  wide-awake  dreaming  passed 
over  this  one's  wind-tossed  locks  between  the  ages  of 
eight  and  fifteen. 

Small  wonder  that  he  dreamed.  Much  of  the  stuff 
that  fables  and  fairy  tales  are  made  of  was  the  actual 
furnishment  of  his  visible  world — unbroken  leagues  of 
lofty  timber  that  had  never  heard  the  ring  of  an  axe ; 
sylvan  labyrinths  where  the  buck  and  doe  were  only 
half  afraid ;  copses  alive  with  small  game ;  rare  open 
ings  where  the  squatter's  wooden  ploughshare  lay  for 
gotten ;  dark  chasms  scintillant  with  the  treasures  of 
the  chemist,  if  not  of  the  lapidary  ;  outlooks  that  opened 
upon  great  seas  of  billowing  forest,  whence  blue  moun- 


48  JOHN  MA  R  C/7,   SO  U  THERNER 

tains  peered  up,  sank  and  rose  again  like  ocean  mon 
sters  at  play;  glens  where  the  she-bear  suckled  her 
drowsing  cubs  to  the  plash  of  yeasty  waterfalls  that 
leapt  and  whimpered  to  be  in  human  service,  but 
wherein  the  otter  played  all  day  unscared ;  crags  where 
the  eagle  nested ;  defiles  that  echoed  the  howl  of  wolves 
unhunted,  though  the  very  stones  cried  out  their  open 
secret  of  immeasurable  wealth ;  narrow  vales  where  the 
mountain  cabin  sent  up  its  blue  thread  of  smoke,  and  in 
its  lonely  patch  strong  weeds  and  emaciated  corn  and 
cotton  pushed  one  another  down  among  the  big  clods ; 
and  vast  cliffs  from  whose  bushy  brows  the  armed  moon 
shiner  watched  the  bridle-path  below. 

These  dreams  of  other  children's  story-books  were 
John's  realities.  And  these  were  books  to  him,  as  well, 
while  Chesterfield  went  unread,  and  other  things  and 
conditions,  not  of  nature  and  her  seclusions,  but  vibrant 
with  human  energies  and  strifes,  were  making,  un 
heeded  of  him,  his  world  and  his  fate.  A  little  boy's 
life  does  right  to  loiter.  But  if  we  loiter  with  him 
here,  we  are  likely  to  find  our  eyes  held  ever  by  the  one 
picture :  John's  gifted  mother,  in  family  group,  book  in 
her  lap — husband's  hand  on  her  right  shoulder — John 
leaning  against  her  left  side.  Let  us  try  leaving  him 
for  a  time.  And,  indeed,  we  may  do  the  same  as  to 
Jeff-Jack  Ravenel. 

As  he  had  told  Barbara  he  would,  he  made  his  resi 
dence  in  Suez. 

A  mess-mate,  a  graceless,  gallant  fellow,  who  at  the 
war's  end  had  fallen,  dying,  into  his  arms,  had  sent  by 
him  a  last  word  of  penitent  love  to  his  mother,  an  aged 


LAUNCELOT  HALLIDA  Y  49 

widow.  She  lived  in  Suez,  and  when  Ravenel  brought 
this  message  to  her — from  whom  marriage  had  torn  all 
her  daughters  and  death  her  only  son — she  accepted 
his  offer,  based  on  a  generous  price,  to  take  her  son's 
room  as  her  sole  boarder  and  lodger.  Thus,  without 
further  effort,  he  became  the  stay  of  her  home  and  the 
heir  of  her  simple  affections. 


IX. 

LAUNCELOT    HALLIDAY 

GENERAL  HALLIDAY  was  a  distant  cousin  of  Mrs. 
Garnet.  He  had  commanded  the  brigade  which  in 
cluded  Garnet's  battalion,  and  had  won  fame. 
Garnet,  who  felt  himself  undervalued  by  Halliday,  said 
this  fame  had  been  won  by  show  rather  than  by  merit. 
And  in  truth,  Halliday  was  not  so  much  a  man  of  gen 
uine  successes  as  of  an  audacity  that  stopped  just  short 
of  the  fantastical,  and  kept  him  perpetually  interesting. 

"  Launcelot's  failures,'1  said  Garnet,  "  make  a  finer 
show  than  most  men's  successes.  He'd  rather  shine 
without  succeeding,  than  succeed  without  shining." 

The  moment  the  war  ended,  Halliday  hurried  back 
to  his  plantation,  the  largest  in  Blackland.  This 
county's  sole  crop  was  cotton,  and  negroes  two-thirds  of 
its  population.  His  large  family — much  looked  up 
to — had  called  it  home,  though  often  away  from  it, 


50  JOHN  MARCH,   SOUTHERNER 

seeking  social  stir  at  the  State  capital  and  elsewhere. 
On  his  return  from  the  war,  the  General  brought  witli 
him  a  Northerner,  an  officer  in  the  very  command  to 
which  he  had  surrendered.  Just  then,  you  may  re 
member,  when  Southerners  saw  only  ruin  in  their  vast 
agricultural  system,  many  Northerners  thought  they 
saw  a  new  birth.  They  felt  the  poetry  of  Dixie's  long 

T  summers,  the  plantation  life — Uncle  Tom's  Cabin — and 
fancied  that  with  Uncle  Tom's  good-will  and  Northern 
money  and  methods,  there  was  quick  fortune  for  them. 
Halliday  echoed  these  bright  predictions  with  brave 
buoyancy  and  perfect  sincerity,  and  sold  the  conqueror 
his  entire  estate.  Then  he  moved  his  family  to  New 
Orleans,  and  issued  his  card  to  his  many  friends, 
announcing  himself  prepared  to  receive  and  sell  any 
shipments  of  cotton,  and  fill  any  orders  for  supplies, 
with  which  they  might  entrust  him.  The  Government's 
pardon,  on  which  this  fine  rapidity  was  hypothecated, 
came  promptly — "  through  a  pardon  broker,"  said 
Garnet. 

But  the  General's  celerity  was  resented.  He  boarded 
at  the  St.  Charles,  and,  famous,  sociable,  and  fond  of 
politics,  came  at  once  into  personal  contact  with  the 

*-  highest  Federal  authorities  in  New  Orleans.  The  happy 
dead  earnest  with  which  he  "  accepted  the  situation" 
and  "  harmonized "  with  these  men  sorely  offended 
his  old  friends  and  drew  the  fire  of  the  newspapers. 
Even  Judge  March  demurred. 

"  President  Garnet,"  John  heard  the  beloved  voice  in 
front  of  him  say,  "  gentlemen  may  cry  Peace,  Peace,  but 
there  can  be  too  much  peace,  sir !  " 


LA  UNCEL  0  T  II A  LLIDA  Y  51 

The  General  came  out  in  an  open  letter,  probably  not 
so  sententiously  as  we  condense  it  here,  but  in  substance 
to  this  effect  :  "  The  king  never  dies  ;  citizenship  never 
ceases  ;  a  bereaved  citizenship  has  no  right  to  put  on  ex 
pensive  mourning,  and  linger  through  a  dressy  widow 
hood  before  it  marries  again.  .  .  .  There  are  menf 
who,  when  their  tree  has  been  cut  down  even  with  the 
ground,  will  try  to  sit  in  the  shade  of  the  stump.  .  .  . 
Such  men  are  those  who,  now  that  slavery  is  gone,  still 
cling  to  a  civil  order  based  on  the  old  plantation  sys 
tem.  .  .  .  They  are  like  a  wood-sawyer  robbed  of 
his  saw-horse  and  trying  to  saw  wood  in  his  lap." 

All  these  darts  struck  and  stung,  but  a  little  soft  mud, 
such  as  any  editor  could  supply,  would  soon  have  drawn 
out  the  sting — but  for  an  additional  line  or  two,  which 
gave  poisonous  and  mortal  offense.  Blackland  and 
Clearwater  replied  in  a  storm  of  indignation.  The 
Suez  Courier  bade  him  keep  out  of  Dixie  on  peril 
of  his  life.  He  came,  nevertheless,  canvassing  for 
business,  and  was  not  molested,  but  got  very  few 
shipments.  What  he  mainly  secured  were  the  flip 
pant  pledges  of  such  as  required  the  largest  possible 
advances  indefinitely  ahead  of  the  least  possible 
cotton.  Also  a  few  Yankees  shipped  to  him. 

"Gen'l  Halliday,  howdy,  sah?"  It  was  dusk  of  the 
last  day  of  this  tour.  The  voice  came  from  a  dark 
place  on  the  sidewalk  in  Suez.  "  Don't  you  know  me, 
Gen'l  ?  You  often  used  to  see  me  an'  Majo'  Gyarnet 
togetheh ;  yes,  sah.  My  name's  Cornelius  Leggett, 
sah" 


52  JOHN  MARCH,   SOUTHERNER 

"  Why,  Cornelius,  to  be  sure !  I  thought  I  smelt 
whiskey.  What  can  I  do  for  you  ? " 

"  Gen'l,  I  has  the  honor  to  espress  to  you,  sah,  ray 
thanks  faw  the  way  you  espress  yo'self  in  yo'  lettch  on 
the  concerns  an'  prospec's  o'  we'  colo'ed  people,  sah. 
An  likewise,  they's  thousands  would  like  to  espress  the 
same  espressions,  sah," 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right." 

"  Gen'l,  I  represents  a  quantity  of  ow  people  what's 
move'  down  into  Blackland  fum  Kosemont  and  other 
hill  places.  They  espress  they'se'ves  to  me  as  they 
agent  that  they  like  to  confawm  some  prearrangernent 
with  you,  sah." 

"  Are  you  all  on  one  plantation  ?  " 

"Oh,  no,  sah,  they  ain't  ezac'ly  on  no  plantation. 
Me?  Oh,  I  been  a-goin'  to  the  Freedman'  Bureau 
school  in  Pulaski  City  as  they  agent. 

"  Sah  ?     Yass,  sah,  at  they  espenses — p-he ! 

"  They  ?  They  mos'ly  strowed  round  in  the  woods  in 
pole  cabins  an'  bresh  arbors. — Sah  ? 

"  Yaas,  sah,  livin'  on  game  an'  fish.-— Sah  ? 

"  Yaas,  sah. 

"  But  they  espress  they  doubts  that  the  Gove'ment 
ain't  goin'  to  give  'em  no  fahms,  an'  they  like  to  com 
prise  with  you,  Gen'l,  ef  you  please,  sah,  to  git  holt  o' 
some  fahms  o'  they  own,  you  know  ;  sawt  o'  payin' 
faw'm  bes'  way  they  kin ;  yass,  sah.  As  you  say  in  yo' 
letteh,  betteh  give  'm  lan's  than  keep  'em  vagabones  ; 
yass,  sir.  Betteh  rio  terms  than  none  at  all ;  yass,  sah." 
And  so  on. 

From  this  colloquy  resulted  the  Negro  farm-village  of 


LA  UNCEL  07"  II 'A  LL  IDA  Y  53 

Leggettstown.  In  1866-68  it  grew  up  on  the  old  Hal-  -j- 
liday  place,  which  had  reverted  to  the  General  by  mort 
gage.  Neatest  among  its  whitewashed  cabins,  greenest 
with  gourd-vines,  and  always  the  nearest  paid  for,  was 
that  of  the  Reverend  Leviticus  Wisdom,  his  wife,  Vir 
ginia,  and  her  step-daughter,  Johanna. 

In  the  fall  of  1869  General  Halliday  came  back  to 
Suez  to  live.  His  wife,  a  son,  and  daughter  had  died, 
two  daughters  had  married  and  gone  to  the  Northwest, 
others  were  here  and  there.  A  daughter  of  sixteen  was 
with  him — they  two  alone.  The  ebb-tide  of  the  war 
values  had  left  him  among  the  shoals ;  his  black  curls 
were  full  of  frost,  his  bank  box  was  stuffed  with  planta 
tion  mortgages,  his  notes  were  protested.  He  had  come 
to  operate,  from  Suez  as  a  base,  several  estates  surren 
dered  to  him  by  debtors  and  entrusted  to  his  management 
by  his  creditors.  This  he  wished  to  do  on  what  seemed 
to  him  an  original  plan,  of  which  Leggettstown  was 
only  a  clumsy  sketch,  a  plan  based  on  his  belief  in  the  \ 
profound  economic  value  of — "  villages  of  small  freehold- 
ing  farmers,  my  dear  sir  ! 

"  It's  the  natural  crystal  of  free  conditions ! "  John 
heard  him  say  in  the  post-office  corner  of  Weed  & 
Usher's  drug-store. 

Empty  words  to  John.  He  noted  only  the  noble  air 
of  the  speaker  and  his  hearers.  Every  man  of  the 
group  had  been  a  soldier.  The  General  showed  much 
more  polish  than  the  others,  but  they  all  had  the 
strong  graces  of  horsemen  and  masters,  and  many 
a  subtle  sign  of  civilization  and  cult  heated  and 
hammered  through-  centuries  of  search  for  good 


54  JO  JIN  MAXC1I,   SO 

government  and  honorable  fortune.  John  stopped 
and  gazed. 

"  Come  on,  son,"  said  Judge  March  almost  sharply. 
John  began  to  back  away.  "  There !  "  exclaimed  the 
father  as  his  son  sat  down  suddenly  in  a  box  of  sawdust 
and  cigar  stumps.  He  led  him  away  to  clean  him  off, 
adding,  "  You  hadn't  ought  to  stare  at  people  as  you 
walk  away  fum  them,  my  son." 

With  rare  exceptions,  the  General's  daily  hearers  were 
silent,  but  resolute.  They  did  not  analyze.  Their 
motives  were  their  feelings ;  their  feelings  were  their 
traditions,  and  their  traditions  were  back  in  the  old  en 
trenchments.  The  time  for  large  changes  had  slipped 
by.  Haggard,  of  the  Courier,  thought  it  "Equally  just 
and  damning "  to  reprint  from  the  General's  odiously 
remembered  letter  of  four  years  earlier,  "  If  we  can't 
make  our  Negroes  white,  let  us  make  them  as  white  as 
we  can,"  and  sign  it  "  Social  Equality  Launcelot."  Par 
son  Tombs,  sweet,  aged,  and  beloved,  prayed  from  his 
pulpit — with  the  preface,  "  Thou  knowcst  thy  servant 
has  never  mixed  up  politics  and  religion  " — that  "  the 
machinations  of  them  who  seek  to  join  together  what 
God  hath  put  asunder  may  come  to  naught." 

Halliday  laughed.  "  Why,  I'm  only  a  private  citizen 
trying  to  retrieve  my  private  fortunes."  But — 

"  These  are  times  when  a  man  can't  choose  whether 
he'll  be  public  or  private !  "  said  Garnet,  and  the 
Courier  made  the  bankrupt  cotton  factor  public  every 
day.  It  quoted  constantly  from  the  unpardonable  let 
ter,  and  charged  him  with  "  inflaming  the  basest  cupid 
ity  of  our  Helots,"  and  so  on,  and  on.  But  the  General, 


LA  UXCEL  0  T  HA  L  L  IDA  Y  0  O 

with  his  silver-shot  curls  dancing  half-way  down  his 
shoulders,  a  six-shooter  under  each  skirt  of  his  black 
velvet  coat,  and  a  knife  down  the  back  of  his  neck,  went 
on  pushing  his  private  enterprise. 

"Private  enterprise!"  cried  Garnet.  "His  jackals 
will  run  him  for  Congress."  And  they  did — against 
Garnet. 

The  times  were  seething.  Halliday,  viewing  matters 
impartially  in  the  clear,  calm  light  of  petroleum 
torches,  justified  Congress  in  acts  which  Garnet  termed 
"  the  spume  of  an  insane  revenge  ;  "  while  Garnet,  with 
equal  calmness  of  judgment,  under  other  petroleum 
torches,  gloried  in  the  "masterly  inactivity  "  of  Dixie's-f 
whitest  and  Lest — which  Launcelot  denounced  as  a  fool 
ish  and  wicked  political  strike.  All  the  corruptions 
bred  by  both  sides  in  a  gigantic  war — and  before  it  in 
all  the  crudeness  of  the  country's  first  century — were 
pouring  down  and  spouting  up  upon  Dixie  their  rain  of 
pitch  and  ashes.  Xegroes  swarmed  about  the  polls, 
elbowed  their  masters,  and  challenged  their  votes. 
Ragged  negresses  talked  loudly  along  the  sidewalk  of 
one  another  as  "ladies,"  and  of  their  mistresses  as 
"  women."  TThite  men  of  fortune  and  station  were 
masking,  night-riding,  whipping  and  killing ;  and 
blue  cavalry  rattled  again  through  the  rocky  streets  of 
Suez. 

Such  was  life  when  dashing  Fannie  Halliday  joined 
the  choir  in  Parson  Tombs's  church,  becoming  at  once 
its  leading  spirit,  and  John  March  suddenly  showed  a 
deep  interest  in  the  Scriptures.  He  joined  her  Sunday- 
school  class. 


56  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 


X. 

FANNIE 

Was  sixteen — she  said  ;  had  black  eyes — the  dilating 
kind — was  pretty,  and  seductively  subtle.  Jeff-Jack 
liked  her  much.  They  met  at  Rosemont,  where  he 
found  her  spending  two  or  three  days,  on  perfect  terms 
with  Barbara,  and  treated  with  noticeable  gravity, 
though  with  full  kindness,  by  Mrs.  Garnet,  whom  she 
called,  warmly,  "Cousin  Rose." 

Ravenel  had  pushed  forward  only  two  or  three  pawns 
of  .conversation  when  she  moved  at  one  step  from  news 
to  politics.  She  played  with  the  ugly  subject  girlishly, 
even  frivolously,  though  not  insipidly — at  least  to  a 
young  man's  notion — riding  its  winds  and  waves  like  a 
sea-bird.  Politics,  she  said,  seemed  to  her  a  kind  of 
human  weather,  no  more  her  business  and  no  less  than 
any  other  kind.  She  never  blamed  the  public,  or  any 
party  for  this  or  that ;  did  he  ?  And  when  he  said  he 
did  not,  her  eyes  danced  and  she  declared  she  disliked 
him  less. 

"  Why,  we  might  as  well  scold  the  rain  or  the  wind 
as  the  public,"  she  insisted.  "What  publics  do,  or 
think,  or  say,  or  want — are  merely — I  don't  know- 
sort  o'  chemical  values.  What  makes  you  smile  that 
way  ?  " 

"  Did  I  smile?     You're  deep,"  he  said. 

"You're  smiling  again,"  she  replied,  and,  turning, 
asked  Garnet  a  guileless  question  on  a  certain  fierce 


FANNIE  57 

matter  of  the  hour.     He  answered  it  with  rash  confi 
dence,  and  her  next  question  was  a  checkmate. 

"  Oh,  understand,"  he  cried,  in  reply  ;  "  we  don't  ex 
cuse  these  dreadful  practices." 

"  Yes,  you  do.  You-all  don't  do  anything  else — ex 
cept  Mr.  Ravenel ;  he  approves  them  barefaced." 

Garnet  tried  to  retort,  but  she  laughed  him  down. 
AVhen  she  was  gone,  "  She's  as  rude  as  a  roustabout," 
he  said  to  his  wife. 

For  all  this  she  was  presently  the  belle  of  Suez.  She 
invaded  its  small  and  ill-assorted  society  and  held  it, 
a  restless,  but  conquered  province.  John's  father  » 
marked  with  joy  his  son's  sudden  regularity  in  Sunday- 
school.  If  his  wife  was  less  pleased  it  was  because  to 
her  all  punctuality  was  a  personal  affront ;  it  was  some 
time  before  she  discovered  the  cause  to  be  Miss  Fannie 
Halliday.  By  that  time  half  the  young  men  in  town 
were  in  love  with  Fannie,  and  three-fourths  of  them  in 
abject  fear  of  her  wit ;  yet,  in  true  Southern  fashion, 
casting  themselves  in  its  way  with  Hindoo  abandon. 

Her  father  and  she  had  apartments  in  Tom  Hersey's 
Swanee  Hotel.  Mr.  Ravenel  called  often.  She  entered 
Montrose  Academy  "in  order  to  remain  sixteen,"  she 
told  him.  This  institution  was  but  a  year  or  two  old. 
It  had  beeen  founded,  at  Ravenel's  suggestion,  "as  a 
sort  o'  little  sister  to  Rosemont."  Its  principal,  Miss 
Kinsington,  with  her  sister,  belonged  to  one  of  Dixie's 
best  and  most  unfortunate  families. 

"You  don't  bow  down  to  Mrs.  Grundy,"  something 
prompted  Ravenel  to  say,  as  he  and  Fannie  came 
slowly  back  from  a  gallop  in  the  hills. 


5  8  JOHN  MA  R  677,   SO  U  THERNER 

"  Yes,  I  do.  I  only  love  to  tease  her  now  and  then. 
I  go  to  the  races,  play  cards,  waltz,  talk  slang,  and  read 
novels.  But  when  I  do  bow  down  to  her  I  bow  away 
down.  Why,  at  Montrose,  I  actually  talk  on  serious 
subjects ! " 

"  Do  you  touch  often  on  religion  ?     You  never  do  to 

•/  o 

the  gentlemen  I  bring  to  see  you." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Ixavenel,  I  don't  understand  you.  What 
should  I  know  about  religion  ?  You  seem  to  forget 
that  I  belong  to  the  choir." 

"  Well,  politics,  then.  Don't  you  ever  try  to  make  a 
convert  even  in  that  ?  " 

"  I  talk  politics  for  fun  only."  She  toyed  with  her 
whip.  "  I'd  tell  you  something  if  I  thought  you'd 
never  tell.  It's  this :  Women  have  no  conscience  in 
their  intellects.  Xo,  and  the  young  gentlemen  you 
bring  to  see  me  take  after  their  mothers." 

"  I'll  try  to  bring  some  other  kind." 

"  Oh,  no !  They  suit  me.  They're  so  easily  pleased. 
I  tell  them  they  have  a  great  insight  into  female  char 
acter.  Don't  you  tell  them  I  told  you !  " 

"  Do  you  remember  having  told  me  the  same  thing  ?  " 

She  dropped  two  wicked  eyes  and  said,  with  sweet 
gravity,  "  I  wish  it  were  not  so  true  of  you.  How  did 
you  like  the  sermon  last  evening  ?  " 

"  The  cunning  flirt !  "  thought  he  that  night,  as  his 
kneeling  black  boy  drew  off  his  boots. 

Not  so  thought  John  that  same  hour.  Servants' 
delinquencies  had  kept  him  from  Sunday-school  that 
morning  and  made  him  late  at  church.  His  mother 
had  stayed  at  home  with  her  headache  and  her  hus- 


FANNIE  59 

hand.  Her  son  was  hesitating  at  the  churchyard  gate, 
alone  and  heavy-hearted,  when  suddenly  he  saw  a  thing 
that  brought  his  heart  into  his  throat  and  made  a  cer 
tain  old  mortification  start  from  its  long  sleep  with  a 
great  inward  cry.  Two  shabby  black  men  passed  by 
on  plough-mules,  and  between  them,  on  a  poor,  smart 
horse,  all  store  clothes,  watch-chain,  and  shoe-blacking, 
rode  the  president  of  the  Zion  Freedom  Homestead 
League,  Mr.  Cornelius  Leggett,  of  Leggettstown.  John 
went  in.  Fannie,  seemingly  fresh  from  heaven,  stood 
behind  the  melodeon  and  sang  the  repentant  prodigal's 
resolve ;  and  he,  in  raging  shame  for  the  stripes  once 
dealt  him,  the  lie  they  had  scared  from  him  at  the 
time,  and  the  many  he  had  told  since  to  cover  that  one, 
shed  such  tears  that  he  had  to  steal  out,  and,  behind  a 
tree  in  the  rear  of  the  church,  being  again  without  a 
handkerchief,  dry  his  cheeks  on  his  sleeves. 

And  now,  in  his  lowly  bed,  his  eyes  swam  once  more 
as  the  girl's  voice  returned  to  his  remembrance  : 
"  Father,  I  have  sinned  against  heaven  and  before  thee, 
and  am  no  more  worthy  to  be  called  thy  son." 

He  left  his  bed  and  stood  beside  the  higher  one. 
But  the  father  slept.  Even  if  he  should  waken  him,  he 
felt  that  he  could  only  weep  and  tell  nothing,  and  so  he 
went  back  and  lay  down  again.  AVith  the  morning, 
confession  was  impossible.  He  thought  rather  of  re 
venge,  and  was  hot  with  the  ferocious  plans  of  a  boy's 
helplessness. 


60  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 


XL 

A    BLEEDING    HEART 

ONE  night  early  in  November,  when  nearly  all  Rose- 
mont's  lights  were  out  and  a  wet  brisk  wind  was  flirt 
ing  and  tearing  the  yellowed  leaves  of  the  oaks,  the 
windows  of  Mrs.  Garnet's  room  were  still  bright.  She 
sat  by  a  small  fire  with  Barbara  at  her  knee.  It  had 
been  election-day  and  the  college  was  silent  with 
chagrin. 

"  Is  pop-a  going  to  get  elected,  mom-a  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  he  is,  my  child." 

"  But  you  hope  he  is,  don't  you  ? " 

"  Listen,"  murmured  the  mother. 

Barbara  heard  a  horse's  feet.  Presently  her  father's 
step  was  in  the  hall  and  on  the  stairs.  He  entered, 
kissed  wife  and  child,  and  sat  down  with  a  look  first  of 
care  and  fatigue,  and  then  a  proud  smile. 

"  Well,  Lauucelot's  elected." 

A  solemn  defiance  came  about  his  mouth,  but  on  his 
brow  was  dejection  and  distress. 

"  You  know,  Rose,"  he  said,  "that  for  myself,  I  don't 
care." 

She  made  no  reply. 

Pie  leaned  on  the  mantlepiece.  "My  heart  bleeds 
for  our  people  !  All  they  ask  is  the  God-given  right  to 
a  pure  government.  Their  petition  is  spurned  !  Rose," 
— tears  shone  in  his  eyes — "  I  this  day  saw  the  sabres 
and  bayonets  of  the  government  of  which  Washington 


A    BLEEDING  HEART  61 

was  once  the  head,  shielding  the  scum  of  the  earth  -f 
while  it  swarmed  up  and  voted  honor  and  virtue  out  of 
office !  "  The  handkerchief  he  snatched  from  his  pocket 
brought  out  three  or  four  written  papers.  He  cast 
them  upon  the  lire.  One,  under  a  chair,  he  overlooked. 
Barbara  got  it  later — just  the  thing  to  carry  in  her  reti 
cule  when  she  went  calling  on  herself.  She  could  not 
read  its  bad  writing,  but  it  served  all  the  better  for 
that. 

Next  evening,  at  tea — back  again  from  Suez — "  Wife 
did  you  see  a  letter  in  blue  ink  in  your  room  this  morn 
ing,  with  some  pencil  figures  of  my  own  across  the  face  ? 
If  it  was  with  those  papers  I  burned  it's  all  right,  but 
I'd  like  to  know."  His  unconcern  was  overdone. 

Barbara  was  silent.  She  had  battered  the  reticule's 
inner  latch  with  a  stone.  To  get  the  paper  out,  the 
latch  would  have  to  be  broken.  Silence  saved  it. 

The  election  was  over,  but  the  turmoil  only  grew. 
Mere  chemicals,  did  Fannie  call  these  incidents  and 
conditions?  But  they  wTere  corrosives  and  caustics 
dropped  blazing  hot  upon  white  men's  bare  hands  and 
black  men's  bare  feet.  The  ex-master  spurned  political 
fellowship  with  his  slave  at  every  cost ;  the  ex-slave  .^_ 
laid  taxes,  stole  them,  and  was  murdered. 

"  Make  way  for  robbery,  he  cries,"  drawled  Ravcnel ; 
"makes  way  for  robbery  and  dies." 

"  Mr.  Ravenel,"  said  Judge  March,  "  I  find  no  place 
for  me,  sir.  I  lament  one  policy  and  loathe  the  other. 
I  need  not  say  what  distress  of  mind  I  suffer.  I  doubt 
not  we  are  all  doing  that,  sir." 

"No,"  said  Jeff- Jack,  whittling  a  straw. 


62  JOIIX  MARCH,   SOUTHERNER 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  Mr.  Ravenel,"  said  Fannie 
Halliday ;  "  it's  a  war  between  decency  in  the  wrong, 
and  vulgarity  in  the  right." 

"No,"  said  Jeff- Jack  again,  and  her  liking  for  him 
grew. 

Cornelius's  explanation  in  the  House  was  more  elabo 
rate. 

"This,  Mr.  Speaker,  are  that  great  wahfare  predi 
cated  in  the  New  Testament,  betwix  the  Republicans 
an'  sinnehs  on  one  side  an'  the  Phair-i-sees  on  the  other. 
The  white-liners,  they  is  the  Phair-i-sees !  They  is  the 
whited  sculptors  befo'  which,  notinstan'in'  all  they 
chiselin',  the  Republicans  an'  sinnehs  enters  fust  into 
the  kingdom !  " 

So,  for  two  more  years,  and  John  was  fifteen. 

Then  the  Judge  decided  to  explain  to  him,  con 
fidentially,  their  long  poverty. 

"  Daphne,  dear " — he  was  going  down  into  Black- 
land — "  if  you  see  no  objection  I'll  take  son  with  me. — 
Why,  no,  dear,  not  both  on  one  hoss,  you're  quite  right ; 
that  wouldn't  be  kind  to  son." 

"  A  merciful  man,  Powhatan,  is  merciful  to " 

"  Yes,  deah ;  Oh,  I  had  the  hoss  in  mind  too  ;  in 
deed  I  had !  Do  you  know,  my  deah,  I  can  tend  to 
business  betteh  when  I  have  ow  son  along  ?  I'm  gett'n' 
to  feel  like  as  if  I'd  left  myself  behind  when  he's  not 
with  me." 

"You've  always  been  so,  Judge  March."  Her  smile 
was  sad.  "  Oh !  no,  I  mustn't  advise.  Take  him 
along  if  you're  determined  to." 


JOHN  THINKS  HE  IS  NOT  AFRAID  63 

XII. 
JOHN    THINKS    HE    IS    NOT    AFRAID 

"  Sox,"  said  the  father  as  they  rode,  "  I  reckon  you've 
often  wondered  why,  owning  ow  hund'ed  thousand  an' 
sixty  acres,  we  should  appeah  so  sawt  o'  reduced ; 
haven't  you  ? " 

"  Sir  ?" 

The  father  repeated  the  question,  and  John  said, 
dreamily : 

"  No,  sir. " 

"  Well,  son,  I'll  tell  you,  though  I'd  rather  you'd  not 
mention  it — in  school,  faw  instance — if  we  can  eveh 
raise  money  to  send  you  to  school. 

"It's  because,  in  a  sense,  we  a,-got  so  much  Ian'. 
Many's  the  time  I  could  a-sole  pahts  of  it,  an'  refused, 
only  because  that  particulah  sale  wouldn't  a-met  the 
object  fo'  which  the  whole  tract  has  always  been  held. 
It  was  yo'  dear  grandfather's  ambition,  an'  his  father's 
befo'  him,  to  fill  these  lan's  with  a  great  population, 
p'osp'ous  an'  happy.  We  neveli  sole  an  acre,  but  we 
neveh  heP  one  back  in  a  spirit  o'  Ian'  speculation,  you 
understan'  ? " 

"  Sir  ? — I — yes,  sir." 

"  The  plan  wa'n't  adapted  to  a  slave  State.     I  see 
that   now.     I  don't  say  slavery  was  wrong,  but  slave  , 
an'  free  labor  couldn't  thrive  side  by  side.     But,  now, 
sou,  you  know,  all  labor's  free  an'  the  time's  come  faw 
a  change. 


64  JO II X  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

"You  see,  son,  that's  where  Gen'l  Halliday's  village 
projec'  is  bad.  His  villages  are  boun'  ban'  an'  foot  to 
cotton  fahmin'  an'  can't  bring  forth  the  higher  industries  ; 
but  now,  without  concealin'  anything  fum  him  or  any 
body — of  co'se  we  don't  want  to  do  that — if  we  can  get 
enough  of  his  best  village  residenters  fum  Leggettstown 
an'  Libbetyville  to  come  up  an'  take  Ian'  in  Widewood 
— faw  we  can  give  it  to  'em  an'  gain  by  it,  you  know  ; 
an'  a  site  or  two  faw  a  church  aw  school — why,  then, 
you  know,  when  capitalists  come  up  an'  look  at  ow 
minin'  lan's —  why,  first  thing  you  know,  we'll  have 
mines  an'  mills  an'  sto'es  ev'y  which  away  !" 

They  met  and  passed  three  horsemen  armed  to  the 
teeth  and  very  tipsy. 

"  Why,  if  to-morrow  ain't  election-day  ag'in  !  Why, 
I  quite  fo 'gotten  that !" 

At  the  edge  of  the  town  two  more  armed  riders  met 
them. 

"  Judge  March,  good  mawnin',  seh."  All  stopped. 
"  Goin' to  Suez  ?" 

"  We  goin'  on  through  into  Blackland." 

"  I  don't  think  you  can,  seh.  Our  pickets  hold 
Swanee  River  bridge.  Yes,  sah,  ow  pickets.  Why  ow 
pickets,  they're  there.  Twould  be  strange  if  they 
wa'n't — three  hund'ed  Blackland  county  niggehs 
marchin'  on  the  town  to  burn  it." 

"  Is  that  really  the  news  ?  " 

"  That's  the  latest,  seh.  We  after  reinfo'cements." 
They  moved  on. 

Judge  March  rode  slowly  toward  Suez.  John  rode 
beside  him.  In  a  moment  the  Judge  halted  again, 


JOHN  THINKS  HE  IS  NOT  AFRAID  65 

lifted  his  bead,  and  listened.  A  long  cheer  floated  to 
them,  attenuated  by  the  distance. 

"  I  thought  it  was  a  charge,  but  I  reckon  it's  on'y  a 
nieet'n  of  o\v  people  in  the  square."  He  glanced  at  his 
son,  who  was  listening,  ashy  pale. 

"  Son,  we  ain't  goin'  into  town.  I'm  going,  but  you 
needn't.  You  can  ride  back  a  piece  an'  wait  faw  me ; 
aw  faw  further  news  which'll  show  you  what  to  do. 
On'y  don't  in  any  case  come  into  town.  This  ain't  yo' 
fight,  son,  an'  you  no  need  to  get  mixed  in  w7ith  it. 
You  hear,  son  ?  " 

"  I  " — the  lad  tried  twice  before  he  could  speak — "  I 
want  to  go  with  you." 

"  Why,  no,  son,  you  no  need  to  go.  Y"bu  ain't  fitt'n' 
to  go.  Y^o'  too  young.  You  a-trembling  now  fum  head 
to  foot.  Ain't  you  got  a  chill  ?  " 

"  N-no,  sir."  The  boy  shivered  visibly.  "  I've  got 
a  pain  in  my  side,  but  it  don't — don't  hurt.  I  want  to 
go  with  you." 

"  But,  son,  there's  goin'  to  be  fight'n'.  I'm  goin'  to 
try  to  p'vent  it,  but  I  shan't  be  able  to.  Why,  if  you 
was  to  get  hurt,  who'd  even  tell  yo'  po'  deah  mother  ?  I 
couldn't.  I  jest  couldn't!  Yrou  betteh  go 'long  home,  son." 

"  I  c-c-can't  do  it,  father." 

"  Why,  air  you  that  sick,  son  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  but  I  don't  feel  well  enough  to  go  home — 
Father — I — I — t-t-told — I  told — an  awful  lie,  one  time, 
about  you,  and " 

"  Why,  son  !  " 

"Yes,  sir.  I've  been  tryin'  for  seven  years  to — 
k — own  up,  and " 


06  JOI1X  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

"  Sev — O  Law,  SOD,  I  don't  believe  you  cveli  done  it 
at  all.  You  neveh  so  niucli  as  told  a  fib  in  yo'  life. 
You  jest  imagine  you  done  it." 

"Yes,  I  have  father,  often.  I  can't  explain  now,  but 
please  lemme  go  with  you." 

"  Why,  son,  I  jest  can't.  Lawd  knows  I  would  if  1 
could." 

"Yes,  you  can,  father,  I  won't  be  in  the  way.  And 
I  won't  be  af-raid.  You  don't  think  I  would  eveh  be 
a-scared  of  a  nigger,  do  you  ?  But  if  the  niggers  should 
kill  you,  and  me  not  there,  I  wouldn't  ever  be  any 
account  no  more !  I  haven't  ever  been  any  yet,  but  I 
will  be,  father,  if  you'll " 

Three  pistol  shots  came  from  the  town,  and  two 
townward-boimd  horsemen  broke  their  trot  and  passed 
at  a  gallop.  "  Come  on,  Judge,"  laughed  one. 

"I  declare,  son,  I  don't  know  what  toe  do.  You 
betteh  go  'long  back." 

"Oh,  father,  don't  send  me  back!  Lcnime  go  'long 
with  you.  Please  don't  send  me  back  !  I  couldn't  go. 
I'd  just  haf  to  turn  round  again  an'  follow  you.  Lcm- 
me  go  with  you,  father.  I  want  to  go  'long  with  you. 
Oh — thank  you,  sir ! "  They  trotted  down  into  the 
town.  "  D'  you  reckon  C'nelius  '11  be  there,  father  ? — 
I — hope  he  will."  The  pallor  was  gone. 

As  the  turnpike  became  a  tree-shaded  street,  they 
passed  briskly  by  its  old-fashioned  houses  set  deep  in 
grove  gardens.  Two  or  three  weedy  lanes  at  right  and 
left  showed  the  poor  cabins  of  the  town's  darker  life 
shut  and  silent.  But  presently, 

"  Father,  look  there !  " 


JOHN  THINKS  HE  IS  ATOT  AFRAID  67 

The   Judge  and  his  son  turned  quickly  to  a  turfy 
bank  where  a  ragged  negro  lay  at  the  base  of  a  large 
tree.     He  was  moaning,  rocking  his  head,  and  holding 
a  hand  against  his  side.     His  rags  were  drenched  with 
blood.     The  white  eyes  rolled  up  to  the  face  of  the 
Judge,  as  he  tossed  his  bridle  to  his  son. 
"  Wateh,"  whispered  the  big  lips,  "  wiiteli." 
John  threw  his  father's  bridle  back,  galloped  through 
a  gate,  and  came  with  a  gourd  full. 

"  G innne  quick,   son,   he's    swoonin'    away."      The 
draught  brought  back  some  life. 
"  Shan't  I  get  a  doctor,  father  ?  " 
"  Taln't  a  bit  of  use,  son." 

"No,"  moaned  the  negro.  "I'm  gwine  fasten  dan 
docto's  kin  come.  I'm  in  de  deep  watehs.  Gwine  to 
meet  my  Lawd  Jesus.  Good-by,  wife  ;  good-by,  chillun. 
Ob,  Jedge  March,  dey  shot  me  in  pyo  devilment.  I 
was  jist  lookin'  out  fo'  my  boy.  Dey  was  comin'  in  to 
town  an  dey  sees  me,  an  awdehs  me  to  halt,  an'  'stid  o' 
dat  I  runs,  thinkin'  that'd  suit  'em  jist  as  well.  Oh, 
Lawd!— Oh,  Lawd!  Oh!"  He  stared  into  the 
Judge's  face,  a  great  pain  heaved  him  slowly,  his  eyes 
set,  and  all  was  over.  A  single  sob  burst  from  the  boy 
as  he  gazed  on  the  dark,  dead  features.  The  Judge 
hasted  to  mount. 

"  Now,  son,  I  got  to  get  right  into  town.  But  you  see 
now,  you  betteh  go  along  back  to  yo'  motheh,  don't 
you  ? " 

"  I'm  goin'  with  you." 


68  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 


XIII. 

FOR    FANNIE 

THEY  came  where  two  men  sat  on  horses  in  the  way. 
"  Sorry,  Judge,  but  them's  orders,  sell ;  only  enrolled 
men  can  pass." 

But  the  speakers  presently  concluded  that  it  could 
never  have  been  intended  to  shut  out  such  a  personage 
as  Judge  March,  and  on  pledge  to  report  to  Captain 
Shotwell,  at  the  Swanee  Hotel,  or  else  to  Captain 
Champion  at  the  court-house,  father  and  son  proceeded. 
Montrose  Academy  showed  no  sign  of  life  as  they  went 
by. 

Yet  John  had  never  seen  the  town  so  populous.  Sad 
dled  horses  were  tied  everywhere.  Men  rode  here  or 
there  in  the  yellow  dust,  idly  or  importantly,  mounted, 
dismounted,  or  stood  on  the  broken  sidewalks  in  groups, 
some  sober,  some  not,  all  armed  and  spurred,  and  more 
arriving  from"  all  directions,  Handsome  Captain  Shot- 
well,  sitting  in  civil  dress,  a  sword  belted  on  him  and 
lying  across  his  lap,  explained  to  the  Judge. 

"  Why,  you  know,  Judge,  how  ow  young  men  ah ; 
always  up  to  some  ridiculous  praank,  jest  in  mere 
plaay,  you  know,  seh.  Yeste'd'y  some  of  'em  taken  a 
boyish  notion  to  put  some  maasks  on  an'  ride  through 
Leggettstown  in  'slo-ow  p'ocession,  with  a  sawt  o'  ban- 
neh  marked,  '  SEE  You  AGAIN  TO-NIGHT.'  They  had 
guns — mo'  f 'om  fo'ce  o'  habit,  I  reckon,  than  anything 
else — you  know  how  ow  young  men  ah,  seh — one  of  'em 


FOR  FANNIE  69 

carry  a  gun  a  yeah,  an'  nevali  so  much  as  hahm  a 
floweh,  you  know.  Well,  sell,  unfawtunately,  the 
niggehs  had  no  mo'  sense  than  to  take  it  all  in  dead 
earnest.  They  put  they  women  an'  child' en  into  the 
church  an'  ahmed  theyse'ves,  some  thirty  of  'em,  with 
shotguns  an'  old  muskets — yondeh's  some  of  'em  in  the 
cawneh.  Then  they  taken  up  a  position  in  the 
road  just  this  side  the  village,  an'  sent  to  Sherman  an' 
Libbetyville  fo'  reinforcements. 

"  Well,  of  co'se,  you  know,  sell,  what  was  jes'  boun' 
to  happm.  Some  of  ow  ve'y  best  young  men  mounted 
an'  moved  to  dislodge  an'  scatteli  them  befo'  they  could 
gatheli  numbehs  enough  to  take  the  offensive  an'  begin 
they  fiendish  work.  Well,  sch,  about  daay-break, 
while  sawt  o'  rcconnoiterin'  in  fo'cc,  they  come  sud 
denly  upon  the  niggehs'  position,  an'  the  niggehs, 
without  the  slightcs'  p'ovocation,  up  an'fi-ud!  P'ovi- 
deutially,  they  shot  too  high,  an'  only  one  man  was 
inju'ed — by  fallin'  from  his  hawss.  Well,  seh,  ow  boys 
fi-ud  an'  cha'ged,  an'  the  niggehs,  of  co'se,  run,  leavin' 
three  dead  an'  fo'  wounded ;  aw,  accawdin'  to  latest 
accounts,  seven  dead  an'  no  wounded.  The  niggehs 
taken  shclteh  in  the  church,  ow  boys  fallen  back  fo' 
reinfo'cements,  an'  about  a'  hour  by  sun  comes  word 
that  the  niggehs,  frenzied  with  raage  an'  liquo', 
a-comhi'  this  way  to  the  numbeh  o'  three  huud'ed,  an' 
increasin'  as  they  come. — No,  seh,  I  don't  know  that  it 
is  unfawtunatCo  It's  just  as  well  faw  this  thing  to 
happm,  an'  to  happm  now.  It'll  teacli  both  sides,  as 
Garnet  said  awhile  ago  addressin'  the  crowd,  that  the 
gov'ment  o'  Dixie's  simply  got  to  paass,  this  time,  away 


70  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

f ' om  a  raace  that  can't  p'escrvc  awdeh,  an'  be  undi- 
videdly  transfclied  oveli  to  tlic  raace  God-A'mighty 
appointed  to  gov'n  !  " 

Judge  March's  voice  was  full  of  meek  distress. 
"  Captain  Shotwell,  where  is  Major  Garnet,  sir  ?  " 

"  Garnet  ?  Oh,  he's  over  in  the  Courier  office,  con- 
sultin'  with  Haggard  an'  Jeff-Jack." 

"  Do  you  know  whether  Gen'l  Halliday's  in  town, 
sir?" 

The  Captain  smiled.  "  He's  in  the  next  room,  sell. 
He's  been  nndeh  my — p'otection,  as  you  might  say,  sine.*. 
daylight." 

"Gen'l  Halliday  could  stop  all  this,  Captain." 

"Stop  it?  He  could  stop  it  in  two  hours,  soli  !  If 
he'd  just  consent  to  go  under  parole  to  Leggettstown  an' 
tell  them  niggehs  that  if  they'll  simply  lay  down  they 
ahms  an'  stay  quietly  at  home — jest  faw  a  day  aw  two — 
all  '11  l)c  freely  fo'givm  an'  fo'gotten,  sell  !  Instead  o' 
that,  he  sits  there,  ca'mly  smilin' — you  know  his  way — 
an'  threatenin'  us  with  the  ahm  of  the  United  States 
Gov'ment.  He  fo'gcts  that  by  a  wise  p'ovision  o'  that 
Gov'mcnt's  foundehs  it's  got  scv'l  ahms,  an'  one 
holds  down  anotheh.  The  S'premc  Cote — Judge 
March,  you  go  in  an'  see  him;  you  jest  the  man  to  do 
it,  sell !  " 

John  waited  without.  Presently  father  and  son 
were  seen  to  leave  Captain  Shotwell's  headquarters  and 
cross  the  square  to  the  Courier  office.  There  a  crowd 
was  reading  a  bulletin  which  stated  that  scouting  par 
ties  reported  no  negro  force  massed  anywhere.  At 
the  top  of  a  narrow  staircase  the  Judge  and  his  son 


FOR  FA  XX IE  71 

were  let  into  the  presence  of  Major  Garnet  and  his 
advisers. 

Here  John  had  one  more  good  gaze  at  Ravenel.  He 
was  in  the  physical  perfection  of  twenty-six,  his  eyes 
less  playful  than  once,  but  his  smile  less  cynical.  His 
dress  was  faultlessly  neat.  Haggard  was  almost  as 
noticeable,  though  less  interesting ;  a  slender,  high- 
strung  man,  with  a  pale  face  seamed  by  a  long  scar  got 
in  a  duel.  One  could  see  that  he  had  been  trying  to 
oflset  the  fatigues  of  the  night  with  a  popular  remedy. 
Ganu't  was  dictating,  Haggard  writing. 

"Captains  Siiotwt'll  and  Champion  will  move  their 
forces  at  once  in  opposite  circuits — through  the  disturbed 
villages — and  assure  all  persons — of  whatever  race  or 
party — that  the  right  of  the  people  peaceably  to  bear 
arms — is  vindicated — and  that  order  is  restored — and 
will  be  maintained."  A  courier  waited. 

"  At  the  same  time,"  said  llavenel,  indolently,  "they 
can  ask  if  the  rumor  is  true  that  Mr.  Leggett  and  about 
ten  others  are  going  to  be  absent  from  this  part  of  the 
country  until  after  the  election,  and  say  we  hope  it's 
so." 

Haggard  cast  a  glance  at  Garnet,  Garnet  looked 
away,  the  postscript  was  made,  and  the  missive  sent. 

"  Brother  March,  good-morning,  sir."  The  Major 
kept  the  Judge's  hand  as  they  moved  aside.  But 
presently  the  whole  room  could  hear — "Why,  Brother 
March,  the  trouble's  all  over! — Oh,  of  course,  if  Halli- 
day  feels  any  real  need  to  confer  with  us  he  can  do  so  : 
we'll  be  right  here. — Oh — Haggard  !  " 

The  editor,  in  the  doorway,  said  he  would  be  back, 


72  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

and  went  out.  He  was  evidently  avoiding  Halliday. 
Judge  March  felt  belittled  and  began  to  go. 

"  If  you're  bound  for  home,  Brother  March,  I'll  be 
riding  that  way  myself,  presently.  You  see,  in  a  few 
minutes  Suez'll  be  as  quiet  as  it  ever  was,  and  I  sent 
word  to  General  Halliday  just  before  you  came  in,  that 
no  one  designs,  or  has  designed,  to  abridge  any  personal 
liberty  of  his  he  may  think  safe  to  exercise."  The 
speaker  suddenly  ceased. 

Both  men  stood  hearkening.  Loud  words  came  up 
the  stairs. 

"  Your  son  stopped  down  into  the  street,  Judge," 
said  Ravenel.  The  next  instant  the  three  rushed  out 
and  down  the  stairway. 

John  had  gone  down  to  see  the  two  armed  bands 
move  off.  They  had  been  gone  but  a  few  minutes 
when  he  noticed  General  Halliday,  finely  mounted, 
come  from  a  stable  behind  the  hotel  and  trot  smartly 
toward  him.  The  few  store-keepers  left  in  town  stared 
in  contemptuous  expectation,  but  to  John  this  was 
Fannie's  father,  and  the  boy  longed  for  something  to 
occur  which  might  enable  him  to  serve  that  father  in  a 
signal  way  and  so  make  her  forever  tenderly  grate 
ful.  The  telegraph  office  was  up  these  same  stairs  on 
the  other  side  of  the  landing  opposite  the  Courier  office  ; 
most  likely  the  General  was  going  to  send  despatches. 
John's  gaze  followed  the  gallant  figure  till  it  disap 
peared  in  the  doorway  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase. 

Near  the  bottom  the  General  and  the  editor  met  and 
passed.  The  editor  stopped  and  cursed  the  General. 
"  You  jostled  me  purposely,  sir !  " 


FOR  FANNIE  73 

Halliday  turned  and  smiled.  "  Jim  Haggard,  why 
should  you  shove  me  and  then  lie  about  it  ?  can't  you 
pick  a  fight  for  the  truth  ?  " 

"  Don't  speak  to  me,  you  white  nigger  !  Are  you 
armed  ?  " 

"Yes!" 

"Then,  Launcclot  Halliday,"  yelled  the  editor, 
backing  out  upon  the  sidewalk  and  drawing  his  re 
peater,  "  I  denounce  you  as  a  traitor,  a  poltroon,  and  a 
coward ! "  Men  darted  away,  dodged,  peeped,  and 
cried — 

"  Look  out !  Don't  shoot !  "  But  John  ran  forward 
to  the  rescue. 

"  Put  that  thing  up  !  "  he  called  to  the  editor,  in  boy 
ish  treble.  "  Put  it  up  !  " 

"Jim  Haggard,  hold  on  !  "  cried  Halliday,  following 
down  and  out  with  his  weapon  pointed  earthward. 
"  Let  me  speak,  you  drunken  fool !  Get  that  boy " 

"  Bang  !  "  went  the  editor's  pistol  before  he  had  half 
lifted  it. 

"  Bang !  "  replied  Halliday 's. 

The  editor's  weapon  dropped.  He  threw  both  hands 
against  his  breast,  looked  to  heaven,  wheeled  half  round, 
and  fell  upon  his  face  as  dead  as  a  stone. 

Halliday  leaped  into  the  saddle,  answered  one  shot 
that  came  from  the  crowd,  and  clattered  away  on  the 
turnpike. 

"  John  was  standing  with  arms  held  out.  He  turned 
blindly  to  find  the  doorway  of  the  stairs  and  cried, 
"  Father !  "  father  !  " 

"  Son ! " 


74  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

He  started  for  the  sound,  groped  against  the  wall, 
sank  to  his  knees,  and  fell  backward. 

"  Room,  here,  room  !  "  "  Give  him  air  !  "  "  By 
George,  sir,  he  rushed  right  in  bare-handed  between 
'em,  orderin'  Haggard  " — "  Stand  back,  you-all,  and 
make  way  for  Judge  March !  " 

"  Oh,  son,  son  !  "  The  father  knelt,  caught  the  limp 
hands  and  gazed  with  streaming  eyes.  "  Oh,  son,  my 
son  !  air  you  gone  fuin  me,  son?  Air  you  gone?  Air 
you  gone  ? " 

A  kind  doctor  took  the  passive  wrist.  "  No,  Judge, 
lie's  not  gone  yet." 

RaveiU'l  and  the  physician  assumed  control.  "  Just 
consider  him  in  my  care,  doctor,  will  you?  Shall  we 
take  him  to  the  hotel  ?  " 

Garnet  supported  Judge  March's  steps.  "Cast  your 
burden  on  the  Lord,  Brother  March.  Bear  up — for 
Sister  March's  sake,  as  she  would  for  yours !  " 

Near  the  top  stairs  of  the  Ladies'  Entrance  Ravencl 
met  Fannie. 

"  I  saw  it  all,  Mr.  Ravenel  ;  he  saved  my  father's 
life.  I  must  have  the  care  of  him.  You  can  get  it 
arranged  so,  Mr.  Ravenel.  You  can  even  manage  his 
mother," 

"  I  will,"  he  said,  with  a  light  smile. 

Election-day  passed  like  a  Sabbath.  General  Ilalii- 
day  returned,  voted,  and  stayed  undisturbed.  His  op 
ponent,  not  Garnet  this  time,  was  overwhelmingly 
elected.  On  the  following  day  Haggard  was  buried 
"with  great  eclat,"  as  his  newspaper  described  it.  Con 
cerning  John,  the  doctor  said  : 


FOR  FANNIE  75 

"Judge  March,  your  wife  should  go  back  home. 
There's  no  danger,  and  a  sick-room  to  a  person  of 
her " 

"  Ecstastic  spirit — "  said  the  Judge. 

"  Exactly — would  be  only " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Judge,  and  Mrs.  March  went.  To 
Fannie  the  doctor  said, 

"  If  lie  were  a  man  I  would  have  no  hope,  but  a  boy 
hangs  to  life  like  a  cat,  and  I  think  he'll  get  well, 
entirely  well.  Move  him  home?  Oh,  not  for  a  month  !  " 

Notwithstanding  many  pains,  it  was  a  month  of  heaven 
to  John,  a  heaven  all  to  himself,  with  only  one  angel  and 
no  church.  As  long  as  there  was  danger  she  was  merely 
cheerful — cheerful  and  beautiful.  But  when  the  danger 
passed  .she  grew  merry,  the  play  of  her  mirth  rising  as 
he  gained  strength  to  bear  it.  lie  loved  mirth,  when 
others  made,  it,  and  always  would  have  laughed  louder 
and  longer  than  he  did  but  for  wondering  how  they 
made  it.  A.  great  manv  things  he  said  made  others 
laugh,  ton,  but  he  could  never  tell  beforehand  what 
would  or  wouldn't.  lie  got  so  full  of  happiness  at 
times  that  Fannie  would  go  out  for  a  few  moments  to 
let  him  come  back  to  his  ordinary  self. 

Two  or  three  times,  when  she  lingered  long  outside 
the  door,  she  explained  on  her  return  that  Mr.  Ravenel 
had  come  to  ask  how  he  was. 

Once  Halliday  met  this  visitor  in  the  Ladies'  En 
trance,  departing,  and  with  a  suppressed  smile,  asked, 
"  Been  to  see  how  '  poor  Johnnie  '  is?  " 

"  Ostensibly,"  said  the  young  man,  and  offered  a 
cigar. 


7  6  JOHN  MA  R  CH,  SO  U  TIIERNER 

The  General  overtook  Fannie  in  the  hallway.  He 
shook  his  head  roguishly.  "  Cruel  sport,  Fan.  He'll 
make  the  even  dozen,  won't  he  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  he'd  like  to  make  me  his  even  two  dozen, 
that's  all." 

When  the  day  came  for  the  convalescent  to  go 
home,  he  was  not  glad,  although  lie  had.  laughed  much 
that  morning.  As  lie  lay  on  the  bed  dressed  and  wait 
ing,  he  was  unusually  pale.  Only  Fannie  stood  by 
him.  Her  hand  was  in  both  his.  He  shut  his  eyes, 
and  in  a  desperate,  earnest  voice  said,  under  his  breath, 
"  Good-by  !  "  And  again,  lower  still, — "  Good-by  !  " 

"Good-by,  Johnnie." 

He  looked  up  into  her  laughing  eyes,  His  color  came 
hot,  his  heart  pounded,  and  he  gasped,  "  S-say  m-my 
John !  Won't  you  ?  " 

"  Why,  certainly.  Good-by,  my  Johnnie."  She 
smiled  yet  more. 

"Will— will  "—he  choked— "will  youb-bemy— k— 
Fannie — when  I  g-get  old  enough  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  with  great  show  of  gravity,  "  if 
you'll  not  tell  anybody."  She  held  him  down  by 
gently  stroking  his  brow.  "  And  you  must  promise  to 
grow  up  such  a  perfect  gentleman  that  I'll  be  proud  of 
my  Johnnie  when  " — She  smiled  broadly  again. 

— "  Wh-when — k — the  time  comes  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  so — yes." 

He  sprang  to  his  knees  and  cast  his  arms  about  her 
neck,  but  she  was  too  quick,  and  his  kiss  was  lost  in 
air.  He  flashed  a  resentful  surprise,  but  she  shook  her 
head,  holding  his  wasted  wrists,  and  said,  "  N-no,  no,  my 


A  MORTGAGE  ON  JOHN  77 

Johnnie,  not  even  you ;  not  Fannie  Halliday,  o-oh  no  !  " 
She  laughed. 

"  Some  one's  coining  !  "  she  whispered.  It  was  Judge 
March.  His  adieus  were  very  grateful.  He  called  her 
a  blessing. 

She  waved  a  last  good-by  to  John  from  the  window. 
Then  she  went  to  her  own  room,  threw  arms  and  face 
into  a  cushioned  seat  and  moaned,  so  softly  her  own  ear 
could  not  catch  it — a  name  that  was  not  John's. 


XIV. 

A    MORTGAGE    ON    JOHN 

As  JOHN  grew  sound  and  strong  he  grew  busy  as 
well.  The  frown  of  purpose  creased  at  times  his  brow. 
There  was  a  "  perfect  gentleman  "  to  make,  and  only  a 
few  years  left  for  his  making  if  he  was  to  be  completed 
in  the  stipulated  time.  Once  in  a  while  he  contrived 
an  errand  to  Fannie,  but  it  was  always  in  broad  day, 
when  the  flower  of  love  is  never  more  than  half  open. 
The  perfect  transport  of  its  first  blossoming  could  not 
quite  return  ;  the  pronoun  "  my  "  was  not  again  paraded. 
Only  at  good-by,  her  eyes,  dancing  the  while,  would 
say,  "  It's  all  right,  my  Johnnie." 

On  Sundays  he  had  to  share  her  with  other  boys 
whom  she  asked  promiscuously, 

"  What  new  commandment  was  laid  on  the  disci 
ples?"— and 


78  JOHN  MAA'CIS,   SOUTHERNER 

"  Ought  not  we  also  to  keep  this  commandment  ?  " 

"Oil !  yes,  indeed!"  said  his  heart,  but  his  slow  lips 
let  some  other  voice  answer  for  him. 

When  she  asked  from  the  catechism,  "  What  is  the 
misery  of  that  estate  whereinto  man  fell?"  all!  how 
he  longed  to  confess  certain  modifications  in  his  own 
case.  And  yet  Sunday  was  his  "  Day  of  all  the  week  the 
best."  Her  voice  in  speech  and  song,  the  smell  of  her 
garments,  the  ilowers  in  her  hat,  the  gladness  of  her 
eyes,  the  wild  blossoms  at  her  belt,  sometimes  his  own 
forest  anemones  dying  of  joy  on  her  bosom — sense  and 
soul  feasted  on  these  and  took  a  new  life,  so  that  going 
from  Sabbath  to  Sabbath  he  went  from  strength  to 
strength,  on  each  Lord's  day  appearing  punctually  in 
Zion. 

One  week-day  when  the  mountain-air  of  Widewood 
was  sweet  with  wild  grapes,  some  six  persons  were  scat- 
teringly  grouped  in  and  about  the  narrow  road  near 
the  March  residence.  One  was  Garnet,  one  was  linve- 
nel,  two  others  John  and  his  father,  and  two  were 
strangers  in  Dixie.  One  of  these  was  a  very  refined- 
looking  man,  gray,  slender,  and  with  a  reticent,  pur 
poseful  mouth.  His  traveling  suit  was  too  warm  for 
the  latitude,  and  his  silk  hat  slightly  neglected.  The 
other  was  fat  and  large,  and  stayed  in  the  carryall  in 
which  Garnet  had  driven  them  up  from  Kosemont.  He 
was  of  looser  stuff  than  his  senior.  He  called  the  West 
his  home,  but  with  a  ^Tew  England  accent.  He  "  didn't 
kuow's  'twas"  and  "presumed  likely"  so  often  that 
John  eyed  him  with  mild  surprise.  Eavenel  sat  and 
whittled.  The  day  was  hot,  yet  in  his  suit  of  gray 


A  MORTGAGE  ON  JOHN  79 

summer  stuffs  lie  looked  as  fresh  as  sprinkled  ferns. 
In  a  pause  Major  Garnet,  with  bright  suddenness, 
asked : 

"  Brother     March,    where's    John     been    going    to 


The  Judge  glanced  round  upon  the  group  as  if  they 
were  firing  upon  him  from  ambush,  hemmed,  looked  at 
John,  and  said : 

"Why, — eh— who;  son?  —Why, — eh — to — to  his 
mother,  sir  ;  yes,  sir." 

"  Ah,  Brother  March,  a  mother's  the  best  of  teach 
ers,  and  Sister  March  one  of  the  most  unselfish  of 
mothers!"  said  Garnet,  avoiding  Raveiiel's  glance. 

The  Judge  expanded.  "Sir,  she's  too  unselfish.  \ 
admit  it,  sir." 

"And,  yet,  Brother  March,  I  reckon  John  gets  right 
smart  schooling  from  you." 

"  Ah !  no,  sir.  We're  only  schoolmates  togetheh, 
sir — in  the  school  of  Nature,  sir.  You  know,  Mr. 
Kavencl,  all  these  things  about  us  here  are  a  sort  of 
books,  sir." 

Raveuel  smiled  and  answered  very  slowly,  "  Ye-es, 
sir.  Very  good  reading ;  worth  thirty  cents  an  acre 
simply  as  literature." 

Thirty  cents  was  really  so  high  a  price  that  the  fat 
stranger  gave  a  burst  of  laughter,  but  Garnet — "It'll 
soon  be  worth  thirty  dollars  an  acre,  now  we've  got  a 
good  government.  Brother  March,  we'd  like  to  see  that 
superb  view  of  yours  from  the  old  field  on  to  the  ridge." 

Ravenel  stayed  behind  with  the  Judge.  John  went 
as  guide. 


80  JO  JIN  MARCH,    SOUTHERNER 

"  Judge/'  Ravenel  said,  as  soon  as  they  were  alone, 
"  how  about  John  ?  I  believe  in  your  school  of  nature 
a  little.  Solitude  for  principles,  society  for  character, 
somebody  says.  Now,  my  school  was  men,  and  hence 
the  ruin  you  see " 

"  Mr.  Ravenel,  sir !  I  see  no  ruin ;  I— 

"  Don't  you  ?     Well,  then,  the  ruin  you  don't  sec." 

"Oh,  sir,  you  speak  in  irony!  I  see  a  charac 
ter " 

"  Yes  " — the  speaker  dug  idly  in  the  sand — "all 
character  and  no  principles.  But  you  don't  want  John 
to  be  all  principles  and  no  character  ?  He  ought  to  be 
going  to  school,  Judge.'7  The  father  dropped  his  eyes 
in  pain,  but  the  young  man  spoke  on.  "Going  to 
school  is  a  sort  of  first  lesson  in  citizenship,  isn't  it? 
—'specially  if  it's  a  free  school.  Maybe  I'm  wrong, 
but  I  wish  Dixie  was  full  of  good,  strong  free 
schools." 

"  You're  not  wrong,  Mr.  Ravenel !  You're  eminently 
right,  sir." 

Mr.  Ravenel  only  smiled,  was  silent  for  a  while,  and 
then  said,  "  But  even  if  it  were — I  had  an  impression 
that  you  thought  you'd  sort  o'  promised  John  to  Rose- 
mont  ?  " 

The  Judge  straightened  up,  distressed.  "Mr.  Ra 
venel,  I  have !  I  have,  sir  !  It's  true ;  it's  true !  " 

"  I  don't  think  you  did,  Judge,  you  only  expressed  an 
intention." 

But  the  Judge  waived  away  the  distinction  with  a 
gesture. 

"Judge,"  said  the  young  man,  slowly   and  gently, 


A  MORTGAGE  ON  JOHN  81 

"  wouldn't  you  probably  be  sending  John  to  Rosemont 
if  Rosemont  wore  free?" 

The  Judge  did  not  speak  or  look  up.  lie  hunted  on 
the  ground  for  chips. 

"  Why  don't  you  sell  some  land  and  send  him  ? " 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Ravenel,  we  can't.  We  just  can't !  It's 
the  strangest  thing  in  the  world,  sir !  Xobody  wants 
it  but  lumbermen,  and  to  let  them,  faw  a  few  cents  an 
acre,  sweep  ove'  it  like  worms  ove'  a  cotton  field — we 
just  can't  do  it!  Mr.  Ravenel,  what  is  the  reason  such 
a  land  as  this  can't  be  settled  up?  We'll  sell  it  to 
any  real  sett  ehs  !  But,  good  Lawd  !  sir,  where  air  they  ? 
Son  an'  me  ain't  got  no  money  to  impotc  'em,  sir.  The 
darkies  don't  know  anything  but  cotton  fahmin' — they 
won't  come.  Let  me  tell  you,  sir,  we've  made  the  most 
flattering  offers  to  capitalists  to  start  this  and  that. 
But  they  all  want  to  wait  till  we've  got  a  good  gov'- 
meiit.  An'  now,  here  we've  got  it — in  Clearwateh,  at 
least — an'  you  can  see  that  these  two  men  ain't  satis 
fied  !" 

"  What  do  you  reckon's  the  reason?  " 

"Mr.  Ravenel,    my    deah  sir,  they  can't  tell!     The 
fat  one  can't  and  the  lean   one   won't !     But  politics  is    ,_, 
at  the  bottom  of  it,  sir !     Politics  keeps  crowdin'  in  an' 
capital  a-hangin'  back,  an' " 

"  Johnnie  doesn't  get  his  schooling,"  said  Ravenel. 

The  response  was  a  silent  gesture,  downcast  eyes,  arid 
the  betrayal  of  an  emotion,  not  of  the  moment,  but  of 
months  and  years  of  physical  want  and  mental  distress. 

"  We  all  get  lots  of  politics,"  said  Ravenel. 

"  Not  son !    not  fum  me,    sir.     Oh,    my    Lawd,   sir, 


82  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

that's  one  of  the  worst  parts  of  it!  I  don't  dare  teach 
him  mine,  much  less  unteach  him  his  mother's.  She's 
as  spirited  as  she's  gentle,  sir." 

"  Whatever  was  is  wrong,"  drawled  the  young  man. 
"  That's  the  new  creed." 

"Oli,  sir,  a  new  creed's  too  painful  a  thing  fo'  jest. 
Ow  South'n  press,  Mr.  Ivavenel,  is  gett'n'  a  sad  facility  fo' 
recantin'.  I  don't  say  it's  not  sincere,  sir — least  of  nil 
ow  Courier  since  it's  come  into  the  hands  of  you  an' 
President  Garnet !  " 

"Garnet!  Oh,  gracious!"  laughed  Jeff- Jack. 
"Sincere — Judge,  if  you  won't  say  anything  about  sin 
cerity,  I'll  tell  you  what  I'd  like  to  do  for  John,  sir. 
I'll  take  your  note,  secured  by  land,  for  the  money  you 
need  to  put  John  through  Ilosemont,  and  you  needn't 
pay  it  till  you  get  ready.  If  you  neyer  get  ready,  I 
reckon  John'll  pay  it  some  day." 

The  moment  the  offer  began  to  be  intelligible,  Judge 
March  tried  to  straighten  up  and  look  Jeff- Jack  squarely 
in  the  face,  but  when  it  was  completed  his  elbows  were 
on  his  knees  and  his  face  in  his  slender  brown  hands. 

Up  in  the  old  field  Garnet  had  talked  himself  dizzy. 
Northern  travelers  are  by  every  impulse  inquirers,  and 
Southern  hosts  expounders  ;  they  fit  like  tongue  and 
groove.  On  the  ridge  he  had  said  : 

"  Now,  Mr.  Fair,  here  it  is.  I  don't  believe  there's  a 
finer  view  in  the  world." 

"  Hm !  "  said  the  slender  visitor. 

The  two  guests  had  been  shown  the  usual  Sleeping 
Giant,  Saddle  Mountain,  Sugar  Loaf,  etc.,  that  go  with 
such  views.  John  had  set  Garnet  right  when  he  got 


JOHN  SENT  TO  ROSE  MONT  S3 

Lover's  Leap  and  Bridal  Veil  tangled  in  the  bristling 
pines  of  Table  Rock  and  the  Devil's  Garden,  and  all 
were  ehai'ined  with  the  majestic  beauty  of  the  scene. 

On  the  way  back,  while  Garnet  explained  to  Mr. 
({amble,  the  heavier  guest,  why  negroes  had  to  be 
treated  not  as  individuals  but  as  a  class,  John  had  been 
telling  Mr.  Fair  \vhy  it  was  wise  to  treat  chickens  not 
as  a  class  but  as  individuals,  and  had  mentioned  the 
names  and  personal  idiosyncrasies  of  the  favorites  of  his 
own  flock  ;  Mr.  Fair,  in  turn,  had  confessed  to  having 
a  son  about  John's  age,  and  wished  they  knew  each 
other.  Before  John  could  reply,  the  party  gayly  halted 
again  beside  his  father  and  Mr.  Ravenel.  As  they  did 
so  Mr.  Fair  saw  Ravenel  give  a  little  nod  to  Garnet 
that  said,  "  It's  all  arranged." 

On  another  evening,  shortly  after  this,  father  and  son 
coming  to  supper  belated,  John  brought  his  mother  a  bit 
of  cross-road  news.  The  "  Rads  "  had  given  a  barbecue 
down  in  Blackland,  just  two  days  before  the  visit  of 
Jell- Jack  and  those  others  to  AVidewood — and  what  did 
she  reckon  !  Cornelius  Leggett  had  there  made  a  speech, 
declaring  that  he  was  at  the  bottom  of  a  patriotic  pro 
ject  to  open  a  free  white  school  in  Suez,  and  "  bu'st  Rose- 
mont  wide  open." 

"  Judge  March,"  said  the  wife,  affectionately,  "  I  won 
der  why  Mr.  Ravenel  avoided  mentioning  that  to  you. 
He  needn't  have  feared  your  sense  of  humor.  Ah !  if 
you  only  had  a  woman's  instincts !  " 

John  said  good-night  and  withdrew.  He  wished  his 
mother  loved  his  father  a  little  less.  They  would  all 
have  a  so  much  better  time. 


84  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

"  No,"  Mrs.  March  was  presently  saying,  "  Mr.  Rav- 
enel's  motives  are  not  those  tliat  concern  me  most. 
Rosemont,  to  me,  must  always  signify  Rose  Montgom 
ery.  It  is  to  her  presence — her  spell — you  would  ex 
pose  my  child  ;  she,  who  has  hated  me  all  her  life.  Ah  ! 
no,  it's  too  late  now  to  draw  back,  he  shall  go.  Yes, 
without  my  consent !  Oh  !  my  consent !  Judge  March, 
you're  jesting  again  !  "  She  lifted  upon  him  the  smile  of 
a  heart  really  all  but  broken  under  its  imaginary 
wrongs. 

There  was  no  drawing  back.  The  mother  suffered,  but 
the  wife  sewed,  and  when  Rosemont  had  got  well  into 
its  season's  work  and  November  was  nearly  gone,  John 
was  ready  for  "  college."  One  morning,  when  the  wind 
was  bitter  and  the  ground  frozen,  father  and  son  rode 
side  by  side  down  their  mountain  road.  A  thin  mantle 
of  snow  made  the  woods  gray,  and  mottled  the  shivering 
ranks  of  dry  cornstalks.  At  each  rider's  saddle  swung  an 
old  carpet-bag  stuffed  with  John's  clothes.  His  best 
were  on  him. 

"  Maybe  they're  not  the  latest  cut,  son,  or  the  finest 
fit,  but  you  won't  mind  ;  you're  not  a  girl.  A  man's  dress 
is  on'y  a  sort  o'  skin,  anyhow ;  a  woman's  is  her  plu 
mage.  And,  anyhow,  at  Rosemont  you'll  wear  soldier 
clothes.  Look  out  son,  I  asked  yo'  dear  motheh  to 
mend " 

The  warning  came  too  late  ;  a  rope  handle  of  one  of 
the  carpet-bags  broke.  The  swollen  budget  struck  the 
unyielding  ground  and  burst  like  a  squash.  John 
sprang  nimbly  from  the  saddle,  but  the  Judge  caught 
his  leg  on  the  other  carpet-bag  and  reached  the  ground 


A  A'  AY  /  -rA  L  S  A  T  R  0  SEM  ON  T  8  5 

in  such  a  shape  that  his  horse  lost  all  confidence  and 
began  to  back  wildly,  putting  first  one  foot  and  then 
another  into  the  scattered  baggage. 

One,  or  even  two,  can  rarely  get  as  much  into  a 
bursted  carpet-bag,  repacking  it  in  a  public  road  and 
perspiring  with  the  fear  that  somebody  is  coming,  as  they 
can  into  a  sound  one  at  a  time  and  place  of  their  own 
choice.  There's  no  place  like  home — for  this  sort  of 
task ;  albeit  the  Judge's  home  may  have  been  an  excep 
tion.  Time  flew  past  while  they  contrived  and  labored, 
and  even  when  they  seemed  to  have  solved  their  prob 
lem  one  pocket  of  John's  trousers  contained  a  shirt  and 
the  other  was  full  of  socks,  and  the  Judge's  heart  still 
retained  an  anxiety  which  he  dared  neither  wholly  con 
fess  nor  entirely  conceal. 

"  Well,  son,  it's  a  comfort  to  think  yo'  precious 
motheh  will  never  have  the  mawtification  of  knowin' 
anything  about  this." 

"  Yass,  sir,"  drawled  John,  "that's  the  first  thing  I 
thought  of." 


XV. 

ARRIVALS    AT    ROSEMONT 

THE  air  was  mild  down  on  the  main  road  which,  be 
cause  it  led  from  Sue/  to  Pulaski  City,  was  known  as 
the  Susie  and  Pussie  pike.  The  highway  showed  a 
mere  dusting  of  snow,  and  out  afield  the  sun  had  said 


8 G  JOHN  MA  R  677,   SO  U  7  'HKRNER 

good-morning  so  cavalierly  to  sonic  corn-shocks  Unit  the 
powder  was  wholly  kissed  off  one  sallow  cheek  of  each. 
The  riders  kept  the  pike  northwesterly  a  short  way  and 
then  took  the  left,  saying  less  and  less  as  they  went  on, 
till  the  college  came  into  view,  their  hearts  sinking  as  it 
rose. 

The  campus  was  destitute  of  human  sounds  ;  but  birds 
gossiped  so  openly  on  every  hand  concerning  the  tardy 
intrusion  that  John  was  embarrassed,  and  hardly  felt, 
much  less  saw,  what  rich  disorder  the  red  and  yellow 
browns  of  clininnu:  and  falling  leaves  made  amonuc  the 

o       o  o  o 

purple-gray  trunks  and  olive-dappled  boughs,  and  on 
the  fading  green  of  the  sod. 

The  jays  Avere  everywhere,  foppish,  flippant,  the  per 
fection  of  privileged  rudeness. 

It  seemed  a  great  way  through  the  grove.  At  the 
foot  of  the  steps  John  would  have  liked  to  make  the  ac 
quaintance  of  some  lat  hens  that  were  picking  around 
in  the  weak  sunshine  and  littering  now  and  then  a 
pious  housewifely  sigh. 

There  was  an  awful  stillness  as  the  two  ascended  the 
steps,  carrying  the  broken  carpet:bag  between  them. 
Glancing  back  down  the  campus  avenue,  John  hoped 
the  unknown  woman  just  entering  its  far  gate  was  not 
observing.  So  mild  was  the  air  here  that  the  front  door 
stood  open.  In  the  hall  a  tall  student,  with  a  sergeant's 
chevrons  on  his  gray  sleeve,  came  from  a  class-room 
and  led  them  into  a  small  parlor.  Major  Garnet  was 
in  Suez,  but  Mrs.  Garnet  would  see  them. 

They  waited.  On  the  mantel  an  extremely  Egyptian 
clock — green  and  gilt — whispered  at  its  task  in  servile 


ARRIVALS  A  T  ROSEMONT  87 

oblivion  to  visitors.  John  stared  at  a  black-framed 
lithograph,  and  his  lather  murmured, 

"That's  the  poet  Longfellow,  son,  who  wrote  that 
nice  letteh  to  yo'  dear  motheh.  This  colo'ed  picture's 
Napoleon  erossing  the  Alps." 

A  footstep  came  down  the  hall,  and  John  saw  a 
pretty  damsel  of  twelve  or  thirteen  with  much  loose 
red-brown  hair,  stop  near  the  door  of  the  reception- 
room  and  gaze  at  someone  else  who  must  have  been 
coming  up  the  porch  steps.  lie  could  not  hear  this 
person's  slow  advance,  but  presently  a  voice  in  the 
porch  said,  tenderly,  "  Miss  Barb  ? "  and  gave  a  low 
nervous  laugh. 

Barbara  shrank  back  a  step.  The  soft  footfall 
reached  the  threshold.  The  maiden  retreated  half  a 
step  more.  Behind  her  sounded  a  faint  patter  of  crino 
line  coming  down  the  hall  stairs.  And  then  there 
came  into  view  from  the  porch,  bending  forward  with 
caressing  arms,  a  slim,  lithe  negress  of  about  nineteen 
years.  Her  flimsy  dress  was  torn  by  thorns,  and  her 
hands  Avere  pitifully  scratched.  Her  skirt  was  gone, 
the  petticoat  bemired,  and  her  naked  feet  Avere  bleeding. 

"  Miss  Barb,"  said  the  tender  voice  again.  From 
the  inner  stairs  a  lady  appeared. 

'•What  is  it,  son?"  Judge  March  asked,  and  rising, 
saw  the  lady  draw  near  the  girl  with  a  look  of  pitying 
uncertainty.  The  tattered  form  stood  trembling,  with 
tears  starting  down  her  cheeks. 

"  Miss  Hose— Oh,  Miss  Rose,  it's  me  !  " 

"  Why,  Johanna,  my  poor  child  !  "  Two  kind  arms 
opened  and  the  mass  of  rags  and  mud  dashed  into 


88  JOHN  MARCH,   SOUTHERNER 

them.  The  girl  showered  her  kisses  upon  the  pure  gar 
ments,  and  the  lady  silently,  tenderly,  held  her  fast. 
Then  she  took  the  black  forehead  between  her  hands. 

"  Child,  what  does  this  mean  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  means  nothin'  but  C'nelius,  Miss  Rose — same 
old  C'uelius !  I  hadn't  nowhere  to  run  but  to  you,  an' 
no  chance  to  come  but  night." 

"  Can  you  go  upstairs  and  wait  a  moment  for  me  in 
my  room?  No,  poor  child,  I  don't  think  you  can  !" 
But  Johanna  went,  half  laughing,  half  crying,  and 
beckoning  to  Barbara  in  the  old-time  wheedling  way. 

"  Go,  Barbara." 

The  child  followed,  while  John  and  his  father  stood 
with  captive  hearts  before  her  whom  the  youths  of  the 
college  loved  to  call  in  valedictory  addresses  the  Hose 
of  Rosemont.  She  spent  a  few  moments  with  them, 
holding  John's  more  than  willing  hand,  and  then 
called  in  the  principal's  first  assistant,  Mr.  Dinwiddie 
Pettigrew,  a  smallish  man  of  forty,  in  piratical  white 
duck  trousers,  kid  slippers,  nankeen  sack,  and  milled 
shirt.  Irritability  confessed  itself  in  this  gentleman's 
face,  which  was  of  a  clay  color,  with  white  spots.  Mr. 
Pettigrew  presently  declared  himself  a  Virginian,  add 
ing,  with  the  dignity  of  a  fallen  king,  that  he— or  his 
father,  at  least — had  lost  over  a  hundred  slaves  by 
the  war.  It  was  their  all.  But  the  boy  could  not 
shut  his  ear  to  the  sweet  voice  of  Mrs.  Garnet  as,  at  one 
side,  she  talked  to  his  father. 

"  Sir  ? "  he  responded  to  the  first  assistant,  who  was 
telling  him  he  ought  to  spell  March  with  a  final  c,  it 
being  always  so  spelled — in  Virginia.  The  Judge 


A   GROUP  OF  NEW  INFLUENCES  89 

turned  for  a  lengthy  good-by,  and  at  its  close  John 
went  with  his  preceptor  to  the  school-room,  trying, 
quite  in  vain,  to  conceive  how  Mr.  Pettigrew  had 
looked  when  he  was  a  boy. 


XVI. 

A    GROUP    OF    NEW    INFLUENCES 

ALL  Rosemonters  were  required  to  sit  together  at 
Sunday  morning  service,  in  a  solid  mass  of  cadet 
srray.  After  this  there  was  ordinary  freedom.  Thus, 

O        w  *j 

when  good  weather  and  roads  and  Mrs.  March's 
strength  permitted,  John  had  the  joy  of  seeing  his 
father  and  mother  come  into  church ;  for  Rosemont 
was  always  ahead  of  time,  and  the  Marches  behind. 
Then  followed  the  delight  of  going  home  with  them  in 
their  antique  and  precarious  buggy,  and  of  a  day-break 
ride  back  to  Rosemont  with  his  father — sweetest  of  all 
accessible  company.  Accessible,  for  his  mother  had 
forbidden  him  to  visit  Fannie  Halliday,  her  father 
being  a  traitor.  He  could  only  pass  by  her  gate — she 
was  keeping  house  now — and  sometimes  have  the 
ecstasy  of  lingeringly  greeting  her  there. 

"  Oh,   my  deah,  she's   his   teacheh,  you   know.     But 

now,  suppose  that  next  Sunday " 

"  Please  call  it  the  sabbath,  Powhatan." 
"  Yes,  deah,  the  sabbath.     If  it    should    chance  to 
rain " 


90  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

"Oh,  Judge  March,  do  you  believe  rain  conies  by 
chance?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  Daphne,  dear.  But — if  it  should  be  rain 
ing  hard " 

"  It  will  still  be  the  Lord's  day.  Your  son  can  read 
and  meditate." 

"But  if  it  should  be  fair,  and  something  else  should 
keep  us  fum  church,  and  he  couldn't  come  up  here,  and 
should  feel  his  loneliness " 

"  Can't  he  visit  some  of  our  Suez  friends — Mary  and 
Martha  Salter,  Doctor  Coffin,  or  Parson  Tombs,  the 
Sextons,  or  Clay  Mattox  ?  I'm  not  puritanical,  nor  are 
they,  lie's  sure  of  a  welcome  from  either  Cousin  Ham 
let  Graves  or  his  brother  Lazarus.  Heaven  has  spared 
us  a  few  friends  still." 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeed.  Dead  loads  of  them  ;  if  son  would 
only  take  to  them.  And,  Daphne,  dcn.li," — the  hus 
band  brightened — "  I  hope,  yet,  he  will." 

School  terms  came  and  went.  Mrs.  March  attributed 
her  son's  failure  to  inherit  literary  talent  to  his  too  long 
association  with  his  father.  He  stood  neither  first, 
second,  nor  last  in  anything.  In  spiritual  conditions  he 
wras  not  always  sure  that  he  stood  at  all.  At  times  he 
wras  shaken  even  in  the  belief  that  the  love  of  fun  is  the 
root  of  all  virtue,  and  although  he  called  many  a  droll 
doing  a  prank  which  the  law's  dark  lexicon  terms  a 
misdemeanor,  for  weeks  afterward  there  would  be  a 
sound  in  his  father's  gentle  speech  as  of  that  voice  from 
which  Adam  once,  in  the  cool  of  the  day,  hid  himself. 
In  church  the  sermons  he  sat  under  dwelt  mainly  on 
the  technical  difficulties  involved  in  a  sinner's  salvation, 


A   GROUP  OF  NEW  INFLUENCES  91 

and  neither  helped  nor  harmed  him  ;  lie  never  heard 
them.  One  clear  voice  in  the  midst  of  the  singing  was 
all  that  engaged  his  ear,  and  when  it  carolled,  "lie 
shall  come  down  like  rain  upon  the  mown  grass,"  the 
notes  themselves  were  to  him  the  cooling  shower. 

One  Sabbath  afternoon,  after  a  specially  indigestible 
sermon  which  Sister  Usher  said  enthusiastically  to  Major 
Garnet  ought  to  be  followed  by  a  great  awakening — as, 
in  fact,  it  had  been — Barbara,  slim,  straight,  and  fifteen, 
softly  asked  her  mother  to  linger  behind  the  parting 
congregation  for  Fannie.  As  Miss  Ilalliday  joined 
them  John,  from  the  other  aisle,  bowed  so  pathetically 
to  his  Sunday-school  teacher  that  when  she  turned 
again  to  smile  on  Barbara  and  her  mother  she  laughed, 
quite  against  her  will.  The  mother  and  daughter 
remained  grave. 

"Fannie,"  said  Mrs.  Garnet,  her  hand  stealing  into 
the  girl's,  "I'm  troubled  about  that  boy."  Barbara 
walked  ahead  pretending  not  to  hear,  but  listening 
hard. 

"  Law !  Cousin  Rose,  so'm  I  !  I  wish  he'd  get  religion 
or  something.  Don't  look  so  at  me,  Cousin  Hose, 
you  make  me  smile.  I'm  really  trying  to  help  him,  but 
the  more  I  try  the  worse  I  fail.  If  I  should  meet  him 
on  the  straight  road  to  ruin  I  shouldn't  know  what  to 
say  to  him ;  I'm  a  pagan  myself." 


92  JOHN  MA  R  6Y7,  SO  U  T1IERNER 


XVII. 

THE    ROSEMONT    ATMOSPHERE 

ABOUT  this  time  Barbara  came  into  new  surround 
ings.  She  had  been  wondering  for  a  month  what  mat 
ter  of  disagreement  her  father  and  mother  were  trying 
to  be  very  secret  about,  when  one  morning  at  breakfast 
her  father  said,  while  her  mother  looked  out  the 
window : 

"  Barb,  we've  decided  to  send  you  to  Montrosc  to 
stay."  And  while  she  was  still  gazing  at  him  speech 
lessly,  a  gulping  sob  came  from  behind  her  mother's 
chair  and  Johanna  ran  from  the  room. 

Barbara  never  forgot  that  day.  Nor  did  her 
memory  ever  lose  the  picture  of  her  father,  as  he 
came  alone  to  see  her  the  next  day  after  her  entrance 
into  the  academy,  standing  before  the  Misses  Kin- 
sington — who  were  as  good  as  they  were  thin,  and 
as  sweet  as  they  were  aristocratic — winning  their  im 
petuous  approval  with  the  confession  that  the  atmos 
phere  of  a  male  college — even  though  it  was  Rosc- 
mont — was  not  good  for  a  young  girl.  While  neither 
of  the  Misses  Kinsington  gave  a  hand  to  him  either  for 
welcome  or  farewell,  when  Mademoiselle  Eglantine — 
who  taught  drawing,  history,  and  French — happened  in 
upon  father  and  daughter  a  second  time,  after  they  had 
been  left  to  saygood-by  alone,  the  hand  of  Mademoiselle 
1  inhered  so  lonir  in  his  that  Barbara  concluded  he  had 

O  O 

forgotten  it  was  there. 


THE  R  0  SEMOX  T  A  7  YJ/0  SPHERE  9  3 

"  She's  quite  European  in  her  way,  isn't  she,  Barb  ?  " 

The  (laughter  was  mute,  for    she  had  from  time  to 

time  noticed  several  women  shake  hands  with  her  lar^e- 

O 

hearted  father  thus. 

Twice  a  week  Barbara  spent  an  afternoon  and  night 
at  Rosemont.  Whether  her  father  really  thought  its 
atmosphere  desirable  for  her  or  not,  she  desired  it,  with 
out  ceasing  and  most  hungrily.  On  Sunday  nights, 
when  the  house  had  grown  still,  there  would  come  upon 
her  door  the  wariest  of  knocks,  and  Johanna  would 
enter,  choose  a  humble  seat,  and  stay  and  stay,  to  tell 
every  smallest  happening  of  the  week. 

Not  infrequently  these  recitals  contained  points  in  the 
history  of  John  March. 

Rosemont  gave  one  of  its  unexpected  holidays. 
John  March  and  another  senior  got  horses  and  galloped 
joyously  away  to  Pulaski  City,  where  John's  companion 
lived.  The  seat  of  government  was  there.  There,  too, 
was  the  Honorable  Mr.  Leggett,  his  party  being  still 
uppermost  in  Blackland.  He  was  still  custodian,  more 
over,  of  the  public  school  funds  for  the  three 
counties. 

Very  late  that  night,  as  the  two  Rosemonters  were 
about  to  walk  past  an  open  oyster  saloon  hard  by  the 
Capitol,  John  caught  his  fellow's  arm.  They  stopped 
in  a  shadow.  Two  men  coming  from  an  opposite 
direction  went  into  the  place  together. 

"Who's  that  white  man?"  whispered  John.  The 
other  named  a  noted  lobbyist,  and  asked, 

"  Who's  the  nigger  ?  " 


94  JOHN  MARCH,   SOUTHERNER 

"  Cornelius  Leggett."  John's  hand  crept,  trembling, 
to  his  hip  pocket. 

His  companion  grasped  it.  "  Pshaw,  March,  are  you 
crazy?" 

"  No,  are  you  ?  I'm  not  going  to  shoot ;  I  was  only 
thinking  how  easy  I  could  do  it." 

He  stepped  nearer  the  entrance.  The  lone  keeper 
had  followed  the  two  men  into  a  curtained  stall.  His 
back  was  just  in  sight. 

"  Let's  slip  in  and  hear  what  they  say,"  murmured 
John,  visibly  disturbed.  But  when  his  companion  as 
sented  he  drew  back.  His  fellow  scanned  him  with  a 
smile  of  light  contempt.  There  were  beads  of  moisture 
on  his  brow.  Just  then  the  keeper  went  briskly  toward 
his  kitchen,  and  the  two  youths  glided  into  the  stall 
next  to  the  one  occupied. 

"Yass,  sell,"  Cornelius  was  tipsily  remarking,  "the 
journals  o'  the  day  reputes  me  to  have  absawb  some 
paucity  o'  the  school  funds.  Well,  supposen  I  has; 
H"  I  say,  jess  supposen  it,  you  know.  I  antagonize  you 
this  question :  did  Napoleon  Bonapawt  never  absawb 
any  paucity  o'  otheh  folks'  things?  An'  yit  he  was 
the  greates'  o'  the  great.  He's  my  patte'n,  sell.  He 
neveh  stole  jiss  to  be  a-stealin'  !  An'  yit  wheneveh  lie 
found  it  assential  of  his  destiny  to  steal  anything,  he 
stole  it  ! 

"  O'  co'se  he  incurred  and  contracted  enemies ;  I  has 
mine ;  it's  useless  to  translate  it.  My  own  motheh's 
husban' — you  riccolec'  ole  Unc'  'Viticus,  don't  you? — 
Rev'en'  Leviticus  Wisdom — on'y  niggeh  that  even  re 
fused  a  office  !  " — he  giggled — "  Well,  he  ensued  to  tn'n 


THE  ROSEMONT  A  TMO  SPHERE  95 

me  out' n  tlie  cliurcli.  Yass,  seh,  faw  nothin'  but  fallin' 
in  love  with  his  daughteh — my  step-sistch — sayin'  I 
run  her  out'n  the  county  ! 

"  But  ho  couldn't  p'octire  a  sufficient  concawdence  o' 
my  fellow-citizens ;  much  less  o'  they  wives — naw  evm 
o'  mine !  No,  seh  !  They  brought  in  they  verdic'  that 
jess  at  this  junction  it'd  be  caPlated  to  ungendeli  strife 
an'  could  on'y  do  hahni."  lie  giggled  again. 

"  My  politics  save  me,  seh  !  They  always  will.  An' 
they  ought  to  ;  faw  they  as  pvo  as  the  crystial  foun 
tain." 

The  keeper  brought  a  stew  of  canned  oysters.  The 
lobbyist  served  it,  and  Mr.  Leggett  talked  on. 

"  Thass  the  diiiunce  'twixt  me  and  Gyarnit.  That 
man's  afraid  o'  me — jess  as  'fraid  as  a  chicken-hawk  is 
of  a  gun,  seh ! — an'  which  nobody  knows  why  essep' 
him  an'  me.  But  thass  jess  the  diff'ence.  Nobody  re 
putes  him  to  steal,  an'  I  don't  say  he  do.  I  ain't  ready 
to  say  it  yit,  you  un'stan' ;  but  his  politics — his  politics, 
seh  ;  they  does  the  stealin' !  An'  which  it's  the  low- 
downdc«t  kind  o'  stealin',  for  it's  stealin'  funi  niggers. 
But  thass  the  diff'ence;  niggers  steals  with  they  claws, 
white  men  with  they  laws.  The  claws  steals  by  the 
pound ;  the  laws  steals  by  the  boatload ! " 

The  lobbyist  agreed. 

"  Jess  so  !  "  cried  Mr.  Leggett.  "  Ef  G}Tarnit'd  vote 
faw  the  things  o'  one  common  welfare  an'  gen'l  progress 
an'  program,  folks — an'  niggers  too — could  affode  faw 
him  to  vote  faw  somepin  fat  oncet  in  a  while  an'  to  evm 
take  sugar  on  his  vote — an'  wrould  sen'  him  to  the  ligis- 
latur'  stid  o'  me.  Thass  not  sayin'  I  eveh  did  aw  does 


96  JOHN  MARCH,   SOUTHERNER 

take  sugar  on  my  vote.  Ef  I  wins  a  bet  oncet  in 
a  while  on  whether  a  certain  bill  '11  pass,  why,  that, 
along  o'  my  official  emoluments  an'  prerequisites  evince 
me  a  sufficient  plenty. 

"  Wife  ? — Estravagant  ? — No  !— Oh  !  you  thinkin' 
o'  my  secon'  wife.  Yes,  seh,  she  was  too  all-lired 
estravagant !  I  don't  disadmire  estravagant  people.  I'm 
dreadful  estravagant  myseff.  But  Sophronia  jess  tuck 
the  rag  off'n  the  bush  ftiw  estravagance.  Silk  dresses, 
wine,  jewelry — it's  true  she  mos'ly  spent  her  own  green 
backs,  but  thass  jess  it,  you  see ;  I  jess  had  to  paht 
with  her,  seh !  You  can  asphyxiate  that  yo'seff,  seh. 

"Now  this  wife  I  got  now — eh?  No,  I  ain't  never 
ezac'ly  hear  the  news  that  the  other  one  dead,  but 
I  suspicioned  her,  befo'  she  lef ',  o'  bein'  consumptcd,  an' 
— O  anyhow  she's  dead  to  me,  seh !  Now,  the  nex' 
time  I  marries — eh  ? — O  yes,  but  the  present  Mis'  Leg- 
gett  can't  las'  much  longeh,  seh.  I  mistakened  myseff 
when  I  aspoused  her.  I'm  a  man  o'  rich  an'  abundant 
natu'e  an'  ought  to  a-got  a  spouse  consistent  with  my 
joys  an'  destinies.  I  may  have  to  make  a  sawt  o' 
Emp'ess  Josephine  o'  her — ef  she  lives. 

"Y'ought  to  see  the  nex'  one! — Seh? — Engaged? — 
No,  not  yit ;  she  as  shy  as  a  crow  an' — ezac'ly  the 
same  colo' ! — I'm  done  with  light-complected  wTomen, 
seh. — But  y'ought  to  see  this-yeh  one ! — Shy  as  a 
pa't'idge !  But  I'm  hot  on  her  trail.  She  putfencZ  to 
be  tarrible  shocked — well,  o'  co'se  thass  right ! — Hid 
away  in  the  hills — at  Rosemont.  But  I  kin  git  her  on 
a  day's  notice.  All  I  got  to  espress  myself  is — Majo' 
Gyarnit,  seh ! — Ef  you  continues  faw  twenty- fo'  hours 


THE  ROSE  MO  NT  A  TMO  SPHERE  97 

mo'  to  harbor  the  girl  Johanna,  otherwise  Miss  Wisdom, 
the  Black  Diana  an'  sim'lar  names,  I  shall  imbibe  it  my 
jewty  to  the  gen'l  welfare  an'  public  progress  to  reno 
vate  yo'  rememb'ance  of  a  vas'ly  diff'ent  an'  mo'  finan 
cial  matteh,  as  per  my  letteh  to  you  of  sich  a  date  about 
seven  year'  ago  an'  not  an's'd  yit,  an1  tell  what  I  know 
about  you.  Thass  all  I'll  say.  Thass  all  I  haf  to  say! 
An'  mebbe  I  won't  haf  to  say  that.  Faw  I'm  tryin' 
love  lettehs  on  her ;  wrote  the  fus'  one  this  eveniu' ; 
on'y  got  two  mo'  to  write.  My  third  inevasively 
fetches  'cm  down  the  tree,  seh !  " 

The  lobbyist  revived  the  subject  of  politics,  the  pub 
lican  went  after  hot  water  for  a  punch,  and  the  eaves 
droppers  slipped  away. 

Early  the  following  week  Mr.  Leggett  reclined  in  his 
scat  in  the  House  of  Representatives.  His  boots  were 
on  iiis  desk,  and  he  tapped  them  with  his  sword-cane 
while  he  waited  to  back  up  with  his  vote  a  certain  bet 
of  the  Friday  night  before.  A  speaker  of  his  own 
party  was  alluding  to  him  as  the  father  of  free  schools 
in  Blackland  and  Clearwater  ;  but  he  was  used  to  this 
and  only  closed  his  eyes.  A  page  brought  his  mail. 
It  was  small.  One  letter  was  perfumed.  He  opened  it 
and  sat  transfixed  with  surprise,  and  a-tremble  between 
vanity  and  doubt,  desire  and  trepidation.  He  bent  his 
beaded  eyes  close  over  the  sweet  thing  and  read  its  first 
page  again  and  again.  It  might — it  might  be  an  im 
posture;  but  it  had  come  in  a  Rosemont  envelope,  and 
it  was  signed  Johanna  Wisdom. 

The  House  began  to  vote.  He  answered  to  his  name  ; 
the  bill  passed,  his  bet  was  won.  Adjournment  fol- 


98  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

lowed.  He  hurried  out  and  away,  and  down  in  a  sub 
urban  lane  entered  his  snug,  though  humble,  "bo'd'u' 
house/'  locked  his  door,  and  read  again. 

Two  or  three  well-known  alumni  of  Rosemont  and 
two  or  three  Northern  capitalists — railroad  prospectors 
— were,  on  the  following  Friday,  at  the  Swanee  Hotel 
to  be  the  guests  of  the  Duke  of  Suez,  as  Ravenel  was 
fondly  called  by  the  Rosemont  boys.  To  show  Suez  at 
its  best  by  night  as  well  as  by  day,  there  was  to  be  a 
Rosemont-Montrose  ball  in  the  hotel  dining-room. 
Major  Garnet  opposed  its  being  called  a  bull,  and  it  was 
announced  as  a  musical  reception  and  promenade.  Mr. 
Leggett  knew  quite  as  well  as  Garnet  and  Ravenel  that 
-{""the  coming  visitors  were  behind  the  bill  he  had  just 
voted  for. 

Johanna,  the  letter  said,  would  be  at  the  ball  as  an 
attendant  in  the  ladies'  cloak-room.  It  bade  him  meet 
her  that  night  at  eleven  on  the  old  bridge  that  spanned 
a  ravine  behind  the  hotel,  where  a  back  street  ended  at 
the  edge  of  a  neglected  grove. 

"  Lawd,  Lawd !  little  letteh,  little  lettcli !  is  you  do 
back  windeh  o'  heavm,  aw  is  you  de  front  gate  o'  hell  ? 
Th'  ain't  no  way  to  tell  but  by  tryin' !  Oh,  how  kin  I 
resk  it  ?  An'  yit,  how  kin  I  he'p  but  resk  it  ? 

"  Sheh  !  ain't  I  resk  my  life  time  an'  time  ag'in  jess 
for  my  abxtrac'  rights  to  be  a  Republican  niggeh  ? 

"  Ef  they'd  on'y  shoot  me  !  But  they  won't.  They 
won't  evm  hang  me ;  they'll  jess  tie  me  to  a  tree  and 
bu'n  me — wet  me  th'oo  with  coal-oil,  tech  a  match — O 
Lawd  !  "  He  poured  a  tremendous  dram,  looked  at  it 
long,  then  stepped  to  the  window,  and  with  a  quaking 


THE  ROSEMONT  A  TMOSPHERE  99 

hand  emptied  both  glass  and  bottle  on  the  ground,  as  if 
he  knew  life  depended  on  a  silent  tongue  in  a  sober  head. 

And  then  he  glanced  once  more  at  the  letter,  folded 
it,  and  let  it  slowly  into  his  pocket. 

"  '  Happy  as  a  big  sun-floweh/  is  you  ?  I  ain't.  I 
ain't  no  happier'n  a  pig  on  the  ice.  O  it's  mawnstus 
p'ecipitous !  But  it's  gran'  !  It's  mo'n  gran' ;  it's 
miu'curial !  it's  puffic'ly  nocturnial !  "  With  an  exalted 
solemnity  of  face,  half  ardor,  half  anguish,  he  stiffened 
heroically  and  gulped  out, 

"I'llbethah!" 

Friday  came.  John  March  and  half-a-dozen  other 
Rosemonters,  a  committee  to  furnish  "  greens  "  for  gar 
landing  the  walls  and  doorways,  hurried  about  in  an 
expectancy  and  perturbation,  now  gay,  now  grave,  that 
seemed  quite  excessive  as  the  mere  precursors  of  an 
evening  dance.  They  gathered  their  greenery  from  the 
grove  down  beyond  the  old  bridge  and  ravine,  where 
the  ground  was  an  unbroken  web  of  honeysuckle  vines. 

On  this  old  bridge,  at  the  late  night  hour  fixed  in 
the  letter,  Cornelius  met  a  counterfeit,  thickly-veiled 
Johanna,  and  swore  to  marry  her. 

"  Black  as  you  is  ?  Yass  !  The  blacken  the  betteh  ! 
An'  yit  I'd  marry  you  ef  you  wuz  pyo  white ! — Colo' 
line  ! — I'll  cross  fifty  colo'  lines  whenev'  I  feels  like  it ! " 

By  midnight  every  Rosemonter  at  the  ball  had  heard 
this  speech  repeated,  and  knew  that  it  had  hardly  left 
the  mulatto's  throat  before  he  had  fled  with  shrieks  of 
terror  from  the  pretended  ghosts  of  his  earlier  wives, 
and  with  the  curses  of  a  coward's  rage  from  the  vain 
clutches  of  his  would-be  captors. — But  we  go  too  fast. 


100  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 


THE    1'ANCiS    OF    COQUETRY 

NIGHT  fell.  The  hotel  shone.  The  ATcranda  was  gay 
with  Chinese  lanterns.  The  muffled  girls  were  arriving. 
The  musicians  tuned  up.  There  were  three  little  fiddles, 
one  big  one,  a  flageolet,  and  a  bassoon. 

"  Twinkling  stars  are  laughing,  love, 
Laughing  on  you  and  me" 

— sang  the  flageolet  and  little  fiddles,  while  the  double 
bass  and  the  bassoon  grunted  out  their  corroborative  tes 
timony  with  melodious  unction.  Presently  the  instru 
ments  changed  their  mood,  the  flageolet  pretended  to  be 
a  mocking-bird,  all  trills,  the  fiddles  passionately  de 
clared  they  were  dreaming  now-ow  of  Ilallie — tr-r-r-ee  ! 
—  dear  Ilallie — tr-r-r-ec ! — sweet  Hallie — tr-r-r-ee  !  and 
the  bassoon  and  double  bass  responded  from  the  depths 
of  their  emotions,  "  Hmmli  !  liinmh  !  hm-lim-limmh  !  " 
Ravenel  and  his  guests  appeared  on  the  floor  ;  Major 
Garnet,  too.  He  had  been  with  them,  here,  yonder, 
all  day.  Barbara  remained  at  home,  although  her 
gowns  were  the  full  length  now,  and  she  coiled  her  hair. 
General  Halliday  and  Fannie  arrived.  Her  dress,  they 
said,  was  the  prettiest  in  the  room.  Jef£Jack  intro 
duced  everybody  to  the  Northerners.  The  women  all 
asked  them  if  Suez  wasn't  a  beautiful  city,  and  the 
guests  praised  the  town,  its  site,  its  gardens,  "  its  possi 
bilities,"  its  ladies — ! — and  its  classic  river. 


THE  PA  NGS  OF  CO  QUE'TRY  10* 

Try  to  look  busy  or  dignified  as  he  might,  all  these 
things  only  harried  John  March.  He  kept  apart  from 
Fannie.  Indeed,  what  man  of  any  self-regard — he 
asked  his  mangled  spirit — could  penetrate  the  crowd 
that  hovered  about  her,  ducking,  fawning,  giggling, 
attitudinizing — listening  over  one  another's  shoulders, 
guffawing  down  each  other's  throats  ?  It  hurt  him  to 
see  her  show  such  indiscriminating  amiability  ;  but  he 
felt  sure  lie  knew  her  best,  and  hoped  she  was  saying  to 
herself,  "Oh,  that  these  sycophants  were  gone,  and  only 
John  :ind  I  and  the  twinkling  stars  remained  to  laugh 
together  !  Why  does  he  stay  away  ?  " 

"  O  my  darling  Nellie  Gray,  they  have  taken 
you  away,"  wept  the  fiddles,  and  "Who?  who? 
who-who-who  ? "  inquired  the  basses  in  deep  solici 
tude. 

Well,  the  first  dance  would  soon  come,  now  ;  the 
second  would  shortly  follow,  and  then  he  and  Fannie 
could  go  out  on  the  veranda  and  settle  all  doubts.  With 
certainty  established  in  that  quarter,  whether  it  should 
bring  rapture  or  despair,  he  hoped  to  command  the 
magnanimity  to  hold  over  a  terrified  victim  the  lash  of 
retribution,  and  then  to  pronounce  upon  him,  untouched, 
at  last,  the  sentence  of  exile.  He  spoke  aloud,  and  look 
ing  up  quickly  to  see  if  anyone  had  heard,  beheld  his 
image  in  a  mirror.  He  knew  it  instantly,  both  by  its 
frown  and  by  the  trick  of  clapping  one  hand  on  the 
front  of  the  thigh  with  the  arm  twisted  so  as  to  show  a 
large  seal-ring  bought  by  himself  with  money  that 
should  have  purchased  underclothes  for  his  father.  He 
jerked  it  away  with  a  growl  of  self-scorn,  and  went  to 


1.02  JOHrf  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

mingle  with  older  men,  to  whom,  he  fancied,  the  world 
mount  more  than  young  women  and  old  scores. 

lie  stopped  in  a  part  of  the  room  where  two  Northern 
ers  were  laughing  at  a  keen  skirmish  of  words  between 
Garnet  and  Halliday.  These  two  had  gotten  upon  poli- 
""  tics,  and  others  were  drawing  near,  full  of  eager  but 
unplayful  smiles. 

"Never  mind,"  said  Garnet,  in  retort,  "we've  restored 
public  credit  and  cut  the  rottenness  out  of  our  govern 
ment." 

The  Northerners  nodded  approvingly,  and  the  crowd 
packed  close. 

"Garnet,"  replied  the  general,  with  that  superior 
smile  which  Garnet  so  hated,  "  States,  like  apples — and 
like  men — have  two  sorts  of  rottenness.  One  begins  at 
the  surface  and  shows  from  the  start;  tlie  other  starts 
from  the  core,  and  doesn't  show  till  the  whole  thing  is 
rotten." 

For  some  secret  reason,  Garnet  reddened  fiercely  for 
an  instant,  and  then,  with  a  forced  laugh,  addressed  his 
words  to  one  of  the  guests. 

Another  of  the  strangers  was  interested  in  the  severe 
attention  a  strong-eyed  Rosemont  boy  seemed  to  give,  to 
Halliday's  speech.  But  it  was  only  John  March,  who 
was  saying,  in  his  heart : 

"She's  got  a  perfect  right  to  take  me  or  throw  me,  but 
she's  no  right  to  do  both  !  " 

Only  the  Northerners  enjoyed  Halliday.  The  Suez 
men  turned  away  in  disdain. 

The  music  struck  a  quadrille,  sweetly  whining  and 


THE  PANGS  OF  COQUETRY  103 

hooting  twice  over  before  starting  into  doubtful  history, 

"  In  eighteen  hundred  and  sixty-one — to  the  war !  to 
the  war !  " 

The  dance  springs  out !  Gray  jackets  and  white 
trousers ;  tarlatan,  flowers,  and  fans ;  here  and  there  a 
touch  of  powder  or  rouge ;  some  black  broadcloth  and 
much  wrinkled  doeskin.  Jeff-Jack  and  Fannie  move 
hand  in  hand,  and  despite  the  bassoon's  contemptuous 
"  pooh  !  pooli !  poo-poo-pooh  !  "  the  fiddles  declare,  with 
petulant  vehemence,  that — 

"  In  eighteen-hundred-and-sixty-one,  the  Yankees 
they  the  war  begun,  but  we'll  all!  get!  blind!  drunk! 
when.  Johnnie  comes  marching  home." 

"  You  sec  we  play  the  national — oh !  no,  I  believe 
that's  not  one — but  we  do  play  them !  "  said  a  native. 

John  didn't  march  home,  although  when  some  one 
wanted  a  window  open  which  had  been  decorated  to 
stay  shut,  neither  he  nor  his  committee  could  be  found. 
He  came  in,  warm  and  anxious,  just  in  time  to  claim 
Fannie  for  their  schottische.  At  ten  they  walked  out 
on  the  veranda,  and  took  seats  at  its  dark  end.  She 
was  radiant,  and  without  a  sign  of  the  mild  dismay  that 
was  in  her  bosom.  When  she  said,  "  Xow,  tell  me, 
John,  why  you're  so  sad,"  there  was  no  way  for  him  to 
see  that  she  was  secretly  charging  herself  not  to  lie  and 
not  to  cry. 

"  Miss  Fannie,"  he  replied,  "  you're  breaking  my 
heart." 

"  Aw,  now,  John,  are  you  going  to  spoil  our  friend 
ship  this  way  ? " 

"  Friendship  !— Oh,  Fannie  !  " 


104  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

"  Miss  Fannie,  if  you  please,  Mister  John." 

"  Ah  !  has  it  come  to  that  ?  And  do  you  hide  that 
face?" — For  Fannie  had  omitted  to  charge  herself  not 
to  smile  at  the  wrong  time — "  Have  you  forgotten  the 
day  we  parted  here  five  years  ago  ?  " 

"  Why,  no.  I  don't  remember  what  day  of  the  week 
it  was,  but  I — I  remember  it.  Was  it  Friday  ?  What 
day  was  it?" 

"  Fannie,  you  mock  me  !  Ah  !  you  thought  me  but 
a  boy,  then,  but  I  loved  you  with  a  love  beyond  my 
years ;  and  now  as  a  man,  I " 

"  Oh  !  a  man !  Mr.  March,  there's  an  end  to  this 
bench.  No!  John,  I  don't  mock  you;  I  honor  you; 
I've  always  been  proud  of  you — Now — now,  John,  let 
go  my  hand!  John,  if  you  don't  let  go  my  hand  I'll 
leave  you  ;  you  naughty  boy ! — No,  I  won't  answer  a 
thing  till  you  let  me  go  !  John  March,  let  go  my  hand 
this  instant !  Now  I  shall  sit  here.  You'll  keep  the 
bench,  please.  Yes,  I  do  remember  it  all,  and  regret 
it !  "  She  turned  away  in  real  dejection,  saying,  in  her 
heart,  "But  I  shall  do  no  better  till  I  die — or — or 
get  married !  " 

She  faced  John  again.  "  Oh,  if  I'd  thought  you'd 
remember  it  forty  days  it  shouldn't  have  occurred !  I 
saw  in  you  just  a  brave,  pure-hearted,  sensible  boy.  I 
thought  it  would  be  pleasant,  and  even  elevating — to 
you — while  it  lasted,  and  that  you'd  soon  see  how — how 
ineligible — indeed  I  did !  "  Both  were  silent. 

"  Fannie  Halliday,"  said  John  at  last,  standing  be 
fore  her  as  slim  and  rank  as  a  sapling,  but  in  the  dig- 


THE  PANGS  OF  COQUETRY  105 

nity  of  injured  trust,  "  when  year  after  year  you  saw  I 
loved  you,  why  did  you  still  play  me  false ! " 

"  Now,  Mr.  March,  you're  cruel." 

"  Miss  Fannie  Halliday,  have  you  been  kind  ? " 

"  I  meant  to  be !  I  never  meant  to  cheat  you  !  I 
kept  hoping  you'd  understand  !  Sometimes  I  tried  to 
make  you  understand,  didn't  I  ?  I'm  very  sorry,  John. 
I  know  I've  done  wrong.  But  I — I  meant  well.  I 
really  did  !  " 

The  youth  waved  an  arm.  "  You've  wrecked  my 
life.  Oh,  Fannie,  I'm  no  mere  sentimentalist.  I  can 
say  in  perfect  command  of  these  wild  emotions,  /  En 
chantress,  fare  thee  well !  '  " 

"  Oli,  fare  thee  fiddlesticks  !  "  Fannie  rose  abruptly. 
"No,  no,  I  didn't  mean  that,  John,  but — aw!  now,  I 
didn't  mean  to  smile !  Oh,  let's  forget  the  past — oh  ! 
now,  yes,  you  can!  Let's  just  be  simple,  true  friends! 
And  one  of  these  days  you'll  love  some  sweet,  true  girl, 
and  she'll  love  you  and  I'll  love  her,  and — "  she  took 
his  arm.  He  looked  down  on  her. 

"  /  love  again  ! — / — ?  Ah  !  how  little  you  women 
understand  men!  Oh,  Fannie!  to  love  twice  is  never 
to  have  loved.  You  are  my  first — my  last !  " 

"Oh,  no,  I'm  not,"  said  Fannie,  blithely  and  aloud, 
as  they  reentercd  the  room.  Then  softly,  behind  her 
fan,  "  I've  a  better  one  in  store  for  you,  now!  " 

"  Two  !  "  groaned  the  bass  viol  and  bassoon.  "  Two  ! 
two!  two-to-to-two !  "  and  with  a  propitiative  smile  on 
John's  open  anguish,  Fannie,  gayer  in  speech  and 
readier  in  laughter,  but  not  lighter  in  heart,  let  a 
partner  waltz  her  away.  As  John  turned,  one  of  his 
committee  seized  his  arm  and  showed  a  watch. 


106  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

XIX. 

MR.    RAVENEL    SHOWS    A    "MORE    EXCELLENT 


URGED  by  all  sorts  and  on  all  sides,  the  Northerners 
lingered  a  day  or  two  more,  visiting  battle-fields  and 
things.  At  Turkey  Creek  Halliday  was  talkative, 
Garnet  overflowed  with  information,  Captains  Cham 
pion  and  Shotwell  were  boyish,  and  Colonel  Proudfit 
got  tight.  They  ate  cold  fried  chicken  and  drank — 

"  Whew ! — stop,  stop ! — I  can't  take — Why,  half  that 
would  " — etc. 

"  Where's  Mr.  Ravenel  ?  " 

"  Who,  Jeff-Jack  ?  Oh,  he's  over  yonder  pickin' 
blackberries — no,  he  seldom  ever  touches — he  has  to  be 
careful  how  he — Yes,  sometimes  he  disremembers." 

In  town  again,  Halliday  led  the  way  to  the  public 
grammar  and  high  schools.  Garnet  mentioned  Moii- 
trose  boastfully  more  than  once. 

"  Why  don't  we  go  there  ? "  asked  one  of  the  pro 
jectors,  innocently. 

"Oh — ah — wha'd  you  say,  Colonel  Proudfit?  Yess, 
that's  so,  we  pass  right  by  it  on  ow  way  to  Iloscmont  " 
— and  they  did,  to  the  sweet  satisfaction  of  the  Misses 
Kinsington,  who  were  resolved  no  railroad  should 
come  to  Suez  if  they  could  prevent  it. 

At  Rosemont  Mr.  Dinwiddie  Pettigrew  told  each 
Northerner,  as  soon  as  he  could  get  him  from  Mrs. 
Garnet's  presence,  that  Virginia  was  the  Mother  of 


A  MORE  EXCELLENT  IV A  Y  107 

Presidents  ;  that  the  first  slaves  ever  brought  to  this 
country  came  in  Yankee  ships ;  that  Northern  envy  / 
of  Southern  opulence  and  refinement  had  been  the 
mainspring  of  the  abolition  movement;  and — with  a 
smile  of  almost  womanly  heroism — that  he — or  his 
father  at  least — had  lost  all  his  slaves  in  the  war. 

At  Wide  wood,  whither  Garnet  and  Ravenel  led,  the 
travelers  saw  only  Judge  March  and  the  scenery. 
He  brought  them  water  to  the  fence  in  a  piggin,  and 
with  a  wavering  hand  served  it  out  in  a  gourd. 

"  I  could  'a'  served  it  in  a  glass,  gentlemen,  but  we 
Southe'ne's  think  it's  sweeteh  drank  fum  a  gode." 

"  We  met  your  son  at  the  cotillion,"  said  one,  and 
the  father  lighted  up  with  such  confident  expectation  of 
a  compliment  that  the  stranger  added,  cordially,  "He's 
quite  noted,"  though  he  had  not  heard  of  the  affair  with 
Leggett. 

On  the  way  back  Garnet  praised  everything  and 
everybody.  He  wished  they  could  have  seen  Daphne 
Dalrymple!  If  it  were  not  for  the  Northern  prejudice 
against  Southern  writers,  her  poems  would — "  See  that 
fox — ah!  he's  hid,  now." 

But  the  wariest  game  was  less  coy  than  the  poetess. 
She  wrote,  that  day, 

"  O  !  hide  me  from  the  Northron's  eye  ! 
Let  me  not  hear  his  fawning1  voice, 
I  heard  the  Southland  matron  sigh 
And  saw  the  piteous  tear  that  "... 

Thus  it  ended;  "as  if,"  said  Garnet  to   John,  who 
with  restrained  pride  showed  him   the  manuscript,  "  as  / 
if  grief  for  the  past  choked  utterance — for  the  present. 


108  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

There's  a  wonderful  eloquence  in   that  silence,  March, 
tell  her  to  leave  it  as  it  is  ;  dry  so." 

John  would  have  done  this  had  he  not  become  ex 
tremely  preoccupied.  The  affair  at  the  old  bridge  was 
everybody's  burning  secret  till  the  prospectors  were 
gone.  But  the  day  after  they  left  it  was  everybody's 
blazing  news.  Oddly  enough,  not  what  anybody  had 
done,  but  what  Leggett  had  said — in  contempt  of  the 
color  line — was  the  microscopic  germ  of  all  the  fever. 
From  window  to  window,  and  from  porch  to  porch, 
women  fed  alarm  with  rumor  and  rumor  with  alarm, 
while  on  every  sidewalk  men  collaborated  in  the  inven 
tion  of  plans  for  defensive  vengeance. 

"  Well,  they've  caught  him — pulled  him  out  of  a  dry 
well  in  Libcrtyville." 

L          "I  beg  your  pardon,  he  crossed  the  Ohio  this  morn 
ing  at  daylight." 

John  March  was  light-headed  with  much  drinking  of 
praise  for  having  made  it  practicable  to  "smash  this 
unutterable  horror  in  the  egg!  " 

Kavencl,  near  the  Courier  office,  stopped  at  the 
beckon  of  Lazarus  Graves  and  Charlie  Champion. 
John  was  with  them,  laboring  under  the  impression  that 
they  were  with  him.  They  wanted  to  consult  Kavenel 
about  the  miscreant,  and  the  "steps  proper  to  be  taken 
against  him." 

"  When  found,"  suggested  Ravcnel,  and  they  pleas 
antly  assented. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  said  again,  as  the  four  presently  moved 
out  of  the  hot  sun,  "  but  if  the  color  line  hadn't  been 
\        crossed  already  there  wouldn't  be  any  Leggett." 


A  MORE  EXCELLENT  IV A  Y  109 

"But  he  threatens  to  cross  it  from  the  wrong  side,"     .{? 
replied  John,  posing  sturdily. 

Ravenel's  smile  broadened.  "Most  any  man,  Mr. 
March,  could  be  enticed  across." 

The  mouth  of  the  enticer  opened,  but  his  tongue 
failed. 

"  A  coat  of  tah  and  feathers  will  show  him  he 
mustn't  even  be  enticed  across,"  rejoined  Lazarus. 

Ravenel  said  something  humorous  about  the  new 
Dixie  and  a  peace  policy,  and  John's  face  began  to 
show  misgivings  ;  but  Captain  Champion  explained  that 
the  affair  would  be  strictly  select — best  citizens — no 
liquor — no  brawl — no  life-taking,  unless  violent  resist 
ance  compelled  it ;  in  fact,  no  individual  act ;  but 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  Ravenel,  "you  mean  one  of 
those  irresistable  eruptions  of  a  whole  people's  righteous 
indignation,  that  sweeps  before  it  the  whining  hyper- 
criticisms  of  effeminated  civilizations,"  and  the  smile 
went  round. 

"  Gentlemen,  there's  an  easier  way  to  get  rid  of  Cor 
nelius ;  one,  Captain,  that  won't  hurt  more  by  the 
recoil  than  by  the  discharge." 

They  were  all  silent.  John  folded  his  arms.  Pres 
ently  Graves  said,  meditatively, 

"  We  don't  care  to  hang  him,  just  at — 

"  This  juncture,"  said  Ravenel ;  "  no,  better  give  him 
ten  years  in  the  penitentiary — for  bigamy." 

Sunshine  broke  on  Mr.  Graves's  face,  and  he  mur 
mured,  "  Go  'way  !  " 

"  Champion,  too,  was  radiant.  "  Hu-u-ush  !  "  he  said, 
"  who'll  get  us  the  evidence?  " 


110  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

"  Old  Uncle  Leviticus." 

The  more  questions  they  asked  the  more  pleased  with 
the  plan  were  John's  two  companions.  "  Why  didn't 
you  think  of  that  ?  "  asked  each  of  the  other  in  mock 
contempt.  The  youth  felt  his  growing  insignificance 
reach  completeness  as  Ravenel  said, 

"  In  that  case  you'll  not  need  Mr.  March  any 
longer." 

"  No,  of  course  not,"  said  John,  quickly.     "  I  was  "- 
he  forced  a  cough. 

The  other  two  waved  good-by,  and  he  turned  to  go 
with  them,  but  was  stopped. 

"  Don't  you  want  to  see  me  about  something  else,  Mr. 
March  ?  "  said  Ravenel,  to  detain  him. 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  John,  innocently.  '•'  Oh,  no,  I 
was » 

There  came  between  them,  homeward  bound,  an  open 
parasol,  a  mist  of  muslin  as  sweet  as  a  blossoming  tree, 
a  bow  to  Mr.  Ravenel,  and  then  a  kinder  one  to  John. 

"  Go,"  said  Ravenel,  softly.  "  Didn't  you  see  ?  She 
wants  you." 

John  overtook  the  dainty  figure,  lifted  his  military 
cap,  and  slackened  his  pace. 

"  Miss  Fannie  ?  "  he  caught  step  with  her. 

"  Oh  ! — why  good  morning."  She  was  delightfully 
cordial. 

"  Did  you  want  to  see  me  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Mr.  Ra 
venel  thought  you  did." 

Fannie  raised  her  brows  and  laughed. 

"  Why,  really,  Mr.  Ravenel  oughtn't  to  carry  his 
thinking  to  such  an  excess.  Still,  I'm  not  sorry  for  the 


FANNIE  SUGGESTS  111 

mistake — unless  you  are."  She  glanced  at  him  archly. 
"Come  on,"  she  softly  added,  "I  do  want  to  see 
you." 


XX. 

FANNIE    SUGGESTS 

"  DON'T  look  so  gruesome."     She  laughed. 

John  walked  stiffly,  frowned,  and  tried  to  twist  the 
down  on  his  upper  lip.  When  only  fenced  and  gardened 
dwellings  were  about  them  she  spoke  again. 

"  John,  I'm  unhappy." 

"You,  Miss  Fannie?" 

"Yes.  As  I  passed  you,  you  were  standing  right 
where  you  fell  five  years  ago.  For  three  days  I've  been 
thinking  how  deep  in  debt  to  you  I've  been  ever  since, 
and — how  I've  disappointed  you." 

The  youth  made  no  answer..  He  felt  as  if  he  would 
give  ten  years  of  his  life  to  kneel  at  her  feet  with  his 
face  in  her  hands  and  whisper,  "  Pay  me  a  little  love." 
She  laid  her  arm  on  her  cottage  gate,  turned  her  face 
away,  and  added, 

"  And  now  you're  disappointing  me." 

"  I've  got  a  right  to  know  how,  Miss  Fannie, 
haven't  I  ?  " 

Fannie's  averted  face  sank  lower.  Suddenly  she 
looked  fondly  up  to  him  and  nodded.  "Come,  sit  on 


112  JOHN  MA  R  Clf,  SO  U  T1IERXER 

the  steps  a  minute  " — she  smiled — "  and  I'll  pick  you  a 
rose." 

She  skipped  away.  As  she  was  returning  her  father 
came  out. 

"  Why,  howdy,  Johnnie — Fan,  I  reckon  I'll  go  to 
the  office." 

"  You  promised  me  you  wouldn't !  " 

"  Well,  I'm  better  since  I  took  some  quinine.  How's 
y'  father,  Johnnie  ?  " 

"Sir?  Oh,  she's  not  very  well.  She  craves  acids, 
and — Oh  ! — Father  ?  he's  very — I  ain't  seen  him  in  a 
right  smart  while,  sir.  He's  been  sort  o'  puny  for — 

"  Sorry,"  said  the  General,  and  was  gone. 

Fannie  held  the  rose. 

"Thank  you,"  said  John,  looking  from  it  to  the  kind 
ness  in  her  eye.  But  she  caressed  the  flower  and  shook 
her  head. 

"  It's  got  thorns,"  she  said,  significantly,  as  she  sat 
dowrn  on  a  step. 

"  Yes,  I  understand.     I'll  take  it  so." 

"  I  don't  know.  I'm  afraid  you'll  not  want  it  when  " 
— she  laid  it  to  her  lips — "  when  I  tell  you  how  you've 
disappointed  me." 

"  Yes,  I  will.     For— oh  !  Miss  Fannie— 

"  What,  John  ?  " 

"You  needn't  tell  me  at  all.  I  know  it  already. 
And  I'm  going  to  change  it.  You  shan't  be  disap 
pointed.  I've  learned  an  awful  lot  in  these  last  three 
days — and  these  last  three  hours.  I've  done  my  last 
sentimentalizing.  I — I'm  sure  I  have.  I'll  be  too  good 
for  it,  or  else  too  bad  for  it !  I'll  always  love  you,  Miss 


FANNIE  SUGGESTS  113 

Fannie,  even  when  you're  not — Miss  Fannie  any  more ; 
but  I'll  never  come  using  round  you  and  bothering  you 
with  my — feelings."  He  jerked  out  his  handkerchief, 
but  wiped  only  his  cap — with  slow  care. 

"As  to  that,  John,  I  shouldn't  blame  you  if  you 
should  hate  me." 

"  I  can't,  Miss  Fannie.  I've  not  done  hating,  I'm 
afraid,  but  I  couldn't  hate  you — ever.  You  can't  con 
ceive  how  sweet  and  good  you  seem  to  anyone  as  wicked 
as  I've  been — and  still  am." 

"  You  don't  know  what  I  mean,  John." 

"Yes,  I  do.  But  you  didn't  know  how  bad  you 
were  f-fooling  me.  And  even  if  you  had  of — it  must  be 
mighty  hard  for  some  young  ladies  not  to — to " 

"  Flirt,"  said  Fannie,  looking  down  on  her  rose.  "  I 
reckon  those  who  do  it  find  it  the  easiest  and  prettiest 
wickedness  in  the  world,  don't  they  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know !  All  my  wickedness  is  ugly  and 
hard.  But  I'm  glad  you  expected  enough  of  me  to  be 
disappointed." 

"  Yes,  I  did.  Why,  John,  you  never  in  your  life 
offered  me  a  sign  of  regard  but  I  felt  it  an  honor. 
You've  often  tripped  and  stumbled,  but  I — oh,  I'm  too 
bad  myself  to  like  a  perfect  boy.  What  I  like  is  a  boy 
with  a  conscience." 

"  My  guiding  star  !"  murmured  John. 

"  Oh !  ridiculous  ! — Xo,  I  take  that  back  !  But — but 

— why,  that's  what    disappoints    me !     If  you'd  made 

me  just  your  first  mile-board.     But  it  hurts  me — oh,  it 

,       hurts    me  !  and — far  worse — it's   hurting  Cousin   Rose 

Garnet !    to — now,   don't  flush    up   that  way — to    see 


114  JOIf.V  HI  A  A'  C77,  SO  U  THERNER 

John  March  living  by  passion  and  not  by  principle !  " 
"H — oli!  Miss  Fannie!"     lie  strained  up  a  supe 
rior  smile.     "Is  passion — are  passions  bound  to  be  ig 
noble  ?     But  you're  making  the  usual  mistake — 

"  How,  John  ? "  She  put  on  a  condescending 
patience. 

"  Why,  in   fancying  yon   women    can    guide    a  man 

by- 

"Preaching?"  the  girl  interrupted.  Her  face  had 
changed.  "I  know  we  can't,"  she  added,  abstractedly. 
John  was  trying  to  push  his  advantage. 

"Passion!"  he  exclaimed.  "Passion?  Miss  Fan 
nie,  you  look  at  life  with  a  woman's  view  !  We  men — 
what  are  we  without  passion — all  the  passions?  Fur 
naces  without  fire  !  Ships  without  sails  !  " 

"True!  John.  And  just  as  true  for  women.  But 
without  principles  we're  ships  without  rudders. 
Passion  ought  to  fill  our  sails,  yes;  but  if  principles 
don't  steer  we're  lost !  " 

"Now,  are  you  not  making  yourself  my  guiding 
star  ?" 

"No!  I  won't  have  the  awful  responsibility!  I'm 
nothing  but  a  misguided  girl.  Guiding  star!  Oh, 
fancy  calling  me  that  when  your  dear  old 

«  Do— o— on't !  " 

"Then  take  it  back  and  be  a  guiding  star  yourself! 
See  here !  D'you  remember  the  day  at  the  tournament 
when  you  were  my  knight?  John  March,  can  you 
believe  it?  I!  me!  this  girl !  Fannie  Halliday !  mem 
ber  of  the  choir  !  I  prayed  for  you  that  day.  I  did,  for 
a  fact !  I  prayed  you  might  come  to  be  one  of  the  few 


FANNIE  SUGGESTS  115 

who  arc  the  knights  of  till  mankind  ;  and  here  you — 
John,  if  I  had  a  thousand  gold  dollars  I'd  rather  lose 
them  in  the  sea  than  have  you  do  what  you're  this 
day- 

"Miss  Fannie,  stop;  I'm  not  doing  it.  It's  not 
going  to  be  done.  But  oh  !  if  you  knew  what  spurred 
me  on — I  can't  expl — 

"  You  needn't.  I've  known  all  about  it  for  years  ! 
I  got  it  from  the  girls  who  put  you  to  bed  that  night. 
But  no  one  else  knows  it  and  they'll  never  tell.  John," 
Fannie  pushed  her  gaiter's  tip  with  her  parasol,  "guess 
who  was  here  all  last  evening,  smoking  the  pipe  of 
peace  with  pop." 

"Jeff- Jack?" 

"I  mean  besides  him.  Brother  Garnet!  John, 
what  is  that  man  mostly,  fox  or  goose?  " 

"  Oh,  now,  Miss  Fannie,  you're  unjust !  You're — 
you're  partisan  !  " 

"Ilmin!  That's  what  pop  called  me.  He  says 
Major  Garnet  means  well,  only  he's  a  moss-back.  Sakes 
alive  !  That's  worse  than  fox  and  goose  in  one !"  Her 
eyes  danced  merrily.  "  Why,  that  man's  still  in  the 
siege  of  Vieksburg,  feeding  Kosemont  and  Suez  with  its 
mule  meat,  John." 

"  Miss  Fannie,  it's  my  benefactor  you're  speaking  of." 

"  Aw  !  your  grandmother !  Look  here.  Why'd  he 
bring  Mr.  Ravcnel  here — for  Mr.  Ravencl  didn't  bring 
him — to  pow-wow  with  pop?  Of  course  he  had  some 
purpose — some  plan.  It's  only  you  that's  all  sympa 
thies — no  plans." 

"  Whv,  it's  not  an  hour,"  cried  John,  rising,  "  since 


116  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

Jeff-Jack  told  me  lie  wasn't  a  man  of  plans,  other  men's 
plans  were  good  enough  for  him !  " 

Fannie's  month  opened  and  her  eyes  widened  witli 
merriment.  "  Oh — oh — mm — mm — mm."  She  looked 
up  at  the  sky  and  then  sidewisc  at  the  youth.  "  Sit 
down,  sit  down ;  you  need  the  rest !  Oh ! "  She 
rounded  her  mouth  and  laughed. 

"Now,  see  here,  John  March,  you've  no  right  to 
make  me  behave  so.  Listen  !  I  have  a  sneaking  notion 
that,  with  some  reference  to  your  mountain  lands, 
Brother  Garnet — whom,  I  declare,  John,  I  wouldn't 
speak  to  if  it  wasn't  for  Cousin  Rose — lias  for  years 
built  you  into  his  plans,  including  those  he  brought 
here  last  night.  In  a  few  days  you'll  at  last  be  through 
Rosemont ;  but  I  believe  he'd  be  glad  to  see  you  live 
for  years  yet  on  loves,  hates,  and  borrowed  money. 
Oh  !  for  your  father's  sake,  don't  please  that  man  that 
way !  Why  can't  you  plan?  Why  don't  you  guide? 
You  plan  fast  enough  when  passion  controls  you  ;  plan 
with  your  passions  under  your  control.  Build  men — 
build  him — into  your  plans.  Why,  John,  owning  as 
much  of  God's  earth  as  you  do,  you're  honor  bound  to 
plan." 

"  I  know  it,  Miss  Fannie.  I've  been  feeling  it  a  long 
time  ;  now  I  see  it."  He  started  to  catch  up  the  rose 
she  had  dropped,  but  the  laugh  was  hers  ;  her  foot  was 
on  it. 

"  You — don't  you  dare,  sir !  John,  there's  my  foot's 
sermon.  D'you  see?  Everybody  should  put  his  own 
rose  and  thorn,  both  alike,  under  his  own  foot.  Shod 
or  unshod,  sir,  wTe  all  have  to  do  it.  Now,  why  can't 


FAN X IE  SUGGESTS  117 

you  bring  Mr.  Ravenel  to  sec  pop  with  a  plan  of  your 
own?  I  believe — of  course  I  don't  know,  but  I  suspect 
— Brother  Garnet  has  left  something  out  of  his  plan  that 
you  can  take  into  yours  and  make  yours  win.  Would 
you  like  to  see  it  ?  "  She  patted  her  lips  with  her  para 
sol  handle  and  smiled  bewitchingly. 

"  Would  I — what  do  you  mean,  Miss  Fannie?  " 

"  Why,  I've  got  it  here  in  the  house.  It's  a  secret, 
but  " — lips  and  parasol  again,  eyes  wickeder  than  ever — 
"it's  something  that  you  can  see  and  touch.  Promise 
you'll  never  tell,  never-ncvcr-never  ?  " 

lie  promised. 

"  Wait  here."  She  ran  into  the  house,  trolling  a  song. 
As  John  sat  listening  for  her  return,  the  thought  came 
abruptly,  "  Hasn't  Jeff- Jack  got  something  to  do  with 
this?"  But  there  was  scarcely  time  to  resent  it  when 
she  reopened  the  door  coyly,  beckoned  him  in,  passed 
out,  and  closed  it ;  and,  watch  worn,  wasted,  more  dead 
than  alive,  there  stood  before  John  the  thing  Garnet 
was  omitting — Cornelius  Leggctt. 

When  John  passed  out  again  Fannie  saw  purpose  in 
his  face  and  smiled. 

"Well?  —  Can  you  build  him  in?  —  into  your 
plans  ? " 

The  youth  stared  unintelligently.  She  laughed  at 
him. 

"  My  stars  !    you  forgot  to  try!  " 

It  was  late  at  night  when  Lazarus  Graves  and  Cap 
tain  Champion,  returning  from  Pulaski  City,  where  they 
had  been  hurrying  matters  into  shape  for  the  prosecu- 


118  JOHN  MA  R  CIS,  SO  U  TUERNER 

tion  of  Leggett,  rode  down  the  Susie  and  Pussie  Pike 
toward  Suez.  Where  the  Widewood  road  forked  oil' 
into  the  forest  on  their  left  they  stopped,  having  unex 
pectedly  come  upon  a  third  rider  bound  the  other  way. 
He  seemed  quite  alone  and  stood  by  his  horse  in  deep 
shade,  tightening  the  girth  and  readjusting  blanket  and 
saddle.  Champion  laughed  and  predicted  his  own  fate 
after  death. 

"Turn  that  freckled  face  o'  yo's  around  here,  Johnnie 
March ;  we  ain't  Garnet  and  Pettigrew,  an'  tli'  ain't 
notliin'  the  matteh  with  that  saddle." 

"Howdy,  Cap'in,"  said  John,  as  if  too  busy  to  look 
up. 

"Howdy  yo'sefF!  What  new  devilment  you  up  to 
now?  None?  Oh,  then  we  didn't  see  nobody  slide  off 
fum  behine  that  saddle  an'  slip  into  the  bushes.  Who 
was  it,  John?  Was  it  Johanna,  so-called?" 

"  No,  it  was  Leggett,"  said  John. 

"Oh,  I  reckon!"  laughed  the  Captain. 

"Come  on,"  grumbled  Graves,  and  they  left  him. 


XXI. 
MR.  LEGGETT'S  CHICKEN-PIE  POLICY 

THE  youth  whistled  his  charge  out  of  the  brush  and 
moved  on,  sometimes  in  the  saddle  with  the  mulatto 
mounted  behind,  sometimes,  where  the  way  was  steep, 
walking  beside  the  tired  horse.  When  both  rode  he  had 


J/A'.  LEGGETT'S  CHICKEN-PIE  POLICY      111) 

to  bear  a  continual  stream  of  tobacco-scented  whisper 
ings  poured  into  lii.s  ear. 

"Mr.  March,  that  crowd  wouldn't  do  me  this  a-way 
if  tliev  knowcd  the  patri'tisms  I  feels  to  'em.  Yon  see, 
it's  they  fmancialities  incur  the  late  rise  in  Clairwateh 
County  scrip.  Yass,  seh  ;  which  I  catch  the  fo'cas'  o' 
they  intentions  in  time  to  be  infested  in  a  good  passle  of 
it  myseiK" 

"So  that  now  your  school  funds  are  all  straight 
again  ?  " 

"  Ezac'ly !  all  straight  an'  comp'ehensive.  An' 
what  shell  we  say  then  ?  Shell  we  commit  sin  that 
grace  may  nboim"?  Supposin' I  has  been  too  trim- 
cadillious;  I  say  jis'  suppotirf  I  may  have  evince 
a  rather  too  wifely  pretendencies ;  what  does  they 
care  IV  that?  Xo,  seh,  all  they  wants  is  to  git  shct 
<>'  me." 

"And  do  you  think  they're  wrong?" 

"Mr.  March,  I  does!  Tliass  right  where  they  misses 
it.  Why,  they  needs  me,  seh!  I  got  a  new  policy,  Mr. 
March.  I  'llowed  to  espound  it  las'  week  on  the  hV  of 
the  house,  same  day  the  guvneh  veto  that  bill  we  pass ; 
yass,  seh.  The  gnvneh's  too  much  like  Gyarnit ;  he's  fa\v 
the  whole  hawg  or  none.  Thass  not  my  way;  my  visions 
is  mo'  perspectral  an'  mo'  clairer.  Sell  ?  Wha'd  you 
say?" 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  laughed  John.  "  Only  a  shudder  of 
disgust." 

"  Yass,  seh.  Well,  it  is  disgustin',  ev'm  to  me.  You 
see,  I  discerns  all  these  here  Xew  Dixie  projeckin'.  I 
behole  how  they  all  a-makin'  they  suu'ry  chicken-pies, 


120  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

which  notinstanin'  they  all  cliff 'eiit,  yit  they  all  alike, 
faw  they  all  turnovers !  Yass,  sell,  they  all  spreads 
hafe  acrost  the  dish  an'  then  tu'n  back.  I  has  been  en 
title  Slick  an'  Slippery  Leggett — an'  yit  what  has  I 
always  espress  myseff  ?  Gen'leweM,  they  must  be  suffi- 
ciend  plenty  o'  chicken-pie  to  go  round.  An',  Mr. 
March,  if  she  don't  be  round,  she  won't  go  round.  'Tis 
true  the  scripter  say,  To  them  what  hath  shell  be 
givened,  an'  to  them  what  hath  not  shell  be  takencd 
away  that  which  seem  like  they  hath ;  but  the  scripter's 
one  thing  an'  chicken-pic's  anotheh." 

"Listen,"  whispered  John,  stopping  the  horse ;  and 
when  Mr.  Leggett  would  have  begun  again — "  Oh,  do 
shut  your  everlasting 

"  P-he-he-he-he ! "  tittered  the  mulatto  under  his 
•  breath.  John  started  again  and  Leggett  resumed. 

"  Whew  !  I'm  that  thusty  !  Ain't  you  got  no  sawt  o' 
pain-killeh  about  yo'  clo'es  ?  Aw !  Mr.  March,  mos' 
sholy  you  is  got  some.  No  gen'leman  ain't  goin'  to  be 
out  this  time  o'  night  'ithout  some  sawt  o'  corrective 
— Lawd !  I  wisht  you  had!  Cayn't  we  stop  som'er's 
an'  git  some?  Lawd!  I  wisht  we  could!  I'm  jest 
a-honin'  faw  some  sawt  o'  wetness. 

"But  exhumin'  my  subjec',  Mr.  March,  thass anotheh 
thing  the  scripters  evince — that  ev'y  man  shall  be 
jedge'  by  his  axe.  Yass,  seh,  faw  of  co'se  ev'y  man  got 
his  axe  to  grime.  I  got  mine.  You  got  yo's,  ain't  you? 
— Well,  o'  co'se.  I  respec'  you  faw  it !  Yass,  seh  ;  but 
right  there  the  question  arise,  is  it  a  public  axe  ?  An'  if 
so,  is  it  a  good  one  ?  aw  is  it  a  private  axe  ?  aw  is  it 
both  ?  Of  co'se,  ef  a  man  got  a  good  public  axe  to  grime, 


MR.  LEGGETT  S  CHICKEN-PIE  POLICY     121 

he  espec' — an'  you  espec'  him — to  bring  his  private  axe 
along  an'  git  hit  grime  at  the  same  junction.  Thass 
natchiul.  Thass  all  right  an'  pufficly  corrosive.  On'y 
we  must  take  tu'ns  tunnin'  the  grime-stone.  You  grime 
my  axe,  I  grime  yo's.  How  does  that  strack  you,  Mr. 
March?" 

John's  reply  was  enthusiastic.  "Why,  it  strikes  me 
as  positively  mephitic." 

"  Mr.  March,  thass  what  it  is  !  Thass  the  ve'y  word ! 
Now,  shell  me  an' you  fulfil  the  scripter — 'The  "white 
man  o'  the  mountains  an'  the  Etheropium  o'  the  valleys 
shell  jiue  they  han's  an'  tlie  po'  man's  axe  shell  be 
grime '  ? '  Ain't  them  words  sweet  ?  Ain't  they  jess  puf 
ficly  syruptitious  ?  My  country,  'tis  of  thec !  Oh,  Mr. 
March,  ef  you  knowed  how  much  patri'tism  I  got! — 
You  hear  them  Suez  fellehs  say  this  is  a  white  man's 
country  an'  cay  n't  eveh  be  a  rich  man's  country  till  it 
is  a  white  man's " 

"See  here,  now;  I  tell  you  for  the  last  time,  if  you 
value  your  life  you'd  better  make  less  noise." 

"  Yass,  seh.  Lawd,  I  cayn't  talk  ;  I'm  that  thusty 
I'm  a-spitt'n'  cotton  ! — No,  seh  !  White  man  ain't  eveh 
goin'  to  lif  hisseff  up  by  holdin'  niggeli  down,  an'  that's 
the  pyo  chaotic  truth;  now,  ain't  it?" 

"Best  way  is  to  hang  the  nigger  up." 

"Aw,  Mr.  March,  you  a-jokin'  !  You  know  I  espress 
the  truth.  Ef  you  wants  to  make  a  rich  country,  you 
ain't  got  to  make  it  a  white  man's  country,  naw  a  black 
man's  country,  naw  yit  mix  the  races  an'  make  it  a 
yaller  man's  country,  much  less  a  yaller  woman's  ;  no, 
seh  !  But  the  whole  effulgence  is  jess  this :  you  got  to 


122  JOHN  MA  R  CII,  SO  U  THERNER 

make  it  a  po'  man's  country!  Now,  you  accentuate  yo' 
reflections  on  that,  soli ! — Sell  ?  " 

"  I  say  that's  exactly  what  Widewood  is." 

"No,  seh!  no,  seh  !  I  means  a  country  what's  good 
faw  a  po'  man,  an'  Widewood  cayn't  eveh  be  that 
'ithout  schoolhouses,  seh  !  But  thass  what  me  an'  you 
can  make  it,  Mr.  March.  Why,  thass  the  hence  an' 
the  whence  that  my  constituents  an'  coefficients  calls  me 
School-house  Leggett.  Some  men  cusses  me  that  I  has 
mix'  the  races  in  school.  Well,  supposin'  I  has — a 
little ;  I'se  mix'  myselK  You  cayn't  neveh  mix  'em 
hafe  so  fas'  in  school  as  they  mixes  'em  out  o'  school. 
Yit  thass  not  in  the  accawdeons  o'  my  new  policy. 
Mr.  March,  I'm  faw  the  specie  o'  schools  we  kin  git  an' 
keep — 

John  laughed  again.  "  Oh,  yes,  you're  sure  to  keep 
all  the  specie  you  get." 

Mr.  Leggett  giggled.  "Aw!  I  means  that  ldne  o' 
school.  An'  jiss  now  that  happ'm  to  be  sep'ate  schools. 
I  neveh  was  hawgish  like  myfrien'  Gyarnit.  Gvarnit's 
faw  Iloscmont  an'  State  aid  toe  Kosemont,  an'  faw  noth- 
in'  else  an'  nobody  else,  fus',  las',  an'  everlastin'. 
Thass  jess  why  his  projeckin'  don't  neveh  eventuate,  an' 
which  it  neveh  will  whilse  I'm  there  to  ^eventuate ! 
Whoever  hear  him  say,  'Mr.  School-house  Leggett,  aw 
Mr.  March,  aw  Mr.  Anybody-in-God's-woiT,  pass  yo' 
plate  faw  a  piece  o'  the  chicken  pie  ? '  What !  you 
heard  it  ?  Oh,  Mr.  March,  don't  you  be  fool' !  An' 
yit  I  favo's  Rosemont " 

"  Why,  you've  made  it  your  standing  threat  to  burst 
Kosemont  wide  open !  " 


CLIMBING  L 0  VER '  S  LEA P  123 

"Yass,  te-he !  I  has  often  prevaricate  that  intention. 
But  Law'!  that  was  pyo  gas,  Mr.  March.  I  favors 
Kosemont,  an'  State  aid  toe  Rosemont — perwidin' — 
enough  o'  tlie  said  thereof  to  go  round,  an'  the  same 
size  piece  law  cv'y  po'  man's  boy  as  faw  ev'y  rich  man's 
l)oy.  Of  co's  with  gals  it's  diff'ent,  Mr.  March,  you 
don't  know  what  a  frien'  you  been  a-dislikin' !  " 
"  They  sav  you're  in  favor  of  railroads." 
"  Why,  o'  co'se !  An'  puttickly  the  Pussie  an'  Susie 
an'  Groat  South  Railroad  an'  State  mawgage  bawns  in 
aei-awdeons — perwidin! — one  school-house,  som'er's  in 
thosc-yeh  th'ee  counties,  faw  ev'y  five  mile'  o'  road  they 
hull';  an'  a  Leggettstown  brayneh  road,  yass,  seh.  An', 
Mr.  March,  yit,  stil],  rao'over,  perwiddin' the  movin' the 
capital  to  Suez,  away  fnni  the  corrup'  influence  of 
Pulaski  City.  Faw,  Mr.  March,  the  legislative  will 
neveh  l)e  pyo  auywher's  else  esceptin'  in  Suez,  an'  not 
evm  myseff!  Whew  !  I'm  that  thusty " 


XXII. 

CLIMBING    LOVER'S    LEAP 

THE  woods  grew  dense  and  pathless,  and  the  whis 
pering  gave  place  to  a  busy  fending  off  of  the  strong 
undergrowth.  Presently  John  tied  the  horse,  and  the 
riders  stepped  into  an  open  spot  on  a  precipitous  moun 
tain  side.  At  their  left  a  deep  gorge  sank  so  abruptly 
that  a  small  stone,  casually  displaced,  went  sliding  and 


124  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

rattling  beyond  earshot.  On  their  right  a  wasted  moon 
rose  and  stared  at  them  over  the  mountain's  shoulder ; 
while  within  hand's  reach,  a  rocky  cliff,  bald  on  its 
crown,  stripped  to  the  waist,  and  draped  at  its  foot  in 
foliage,  towered  in  the  shadow  of  the  vast  hill. 

"  Why,  good  Lawd,  Mr.  March,  this  is  Lover's  Leap ! 
We  cayn't  neveh  climb  up  here  !  " 

"We've  got  to  !  D'  you  reckon  I  brought  you  here 
to  look  at  it?  Come  on.  We've  only  got  to  reach 
that  last  cedar  yonder  by  the  dead  pine." 

The  mulatto  moaned,  but  they  climbed.  As  they 
rose  the  black  gorge  seemed  to  crawl  under  them  and 
open  its  hungry  jaws. 

"Great  Lawd!  Mr.  March,  this  is  sut'n  death! 
Leas' wise  it  is  to  me.  I  cayn't  go  no  fu'ther,  Mr. 
March ;  I  inglected  to  tell  you  I'se  got  a  pow'ful  lame 
foot." 

"  Keep  quiet,"  murmured  John,  "  and  come  on. 
Only  don't  look  down." 

The  reply  was  a  gasp  of  horror.  "  Oh  !  mussy  me, 
you  spoke  too  late!  Wait  jess  a  minute,  Mr.  March, 
I'll  stan'  up  ag'in  in  a  minute.  I  jess  mus'  set  here  a 
minute  an'  enjoy  the  view  ;  it's  gr-gran  ' ! 

"  Yass,  seh.  I'sc  a-comiu',  sell.  I'll  rise  up  in  a  few 
minutes;  I'm  sick  at  my  stomach,  but  it'll  pass  off  if  I 
kin  jiss  set  still  a  shawt  while  tell  it  passes  off." 

The  speaker  slowly  rose,  grabbling  the  face  of  the  rock. 

"  Mr.  March,  wait  a  minute,  I  w-want  to  tell  you.  Is- 
is-is  you  w-waitin'  ?  Mr.  March,  this  is  pufficly  safe  and 
haza'dous,  seh,  I  feels  that,  seh,  but  I  don't  like  this  run- 
nin'  away  an'  hidin' !  It's  cowardly  ;  le's  go  down  an' 


CL1MBL \ 'G  L 0 1 'ER ' S  LEAF  125 

face  the  thing  like  men  !  I'm  goin'  to  crawl  down  back 
'ards ;  thass  the  skilfullest  way." 

"  Halt !  "  growled  John,  and  something  else  added 
"  tick-tick." 

"  Oh !  Mr.  March,  faw  God's  sake !  Ef  yon  mus' 
shoot  me,  shoot  me  wliuh  I  won't  fall  so  full!  Why,  I 
was  a-jokin' !  I  wa'n't  a-dreamin'  o'  goin'  back  !  Jleah 
I  come,  seh,  look  out!  Oh,  please  put  up  tlmt-ah 
naysty-lookin'  thing! — Thank  you,  seh  ! — Mr.  March,  es- 
cuse  me  jiss  a  minute  whilse  I  epitomize  my  breath  a 
little,  seh,  I  jess  want  to  recover  my  dizziness — This  is 
line,  ain't  it?  Oh,  Lawd  !  Mr.  March,  escuse  my  sink- 
in'  down  this  a-way !  Oh,  don't  disfunnish  yo'seff  to 
come  back  to  me,  seh ;  I's  jiss  faint  and  thusty.  Mr. 
March,  I  ain't  a-scared  ;  I'm  jiss  a-parishin'  o'  thust ! 
Lawd!  I'm  jiss  that  bole  an'  rackless  I'd  resk  twenty 
lives  faw  jiss  one  hale  a  finger  o'  pyo  whiskey.  I  dunno 
what'll  happm  to  me  ef  I  don't  git  some  quick.  I  ain't 
had  a  drap  sence  the  night  o'  the  ball,  an'  thass  what 
make  this-yeh  flatulency  o'  the  heart.  Oh  !  please  don't 
tech  me  ;  cv'm  ef  you  lif  me  I  cayn't  stan'.  Oh,  Lawd  ! 
the  icy  han'  o'  death  is  on  me.  I'll  soon  be  in  glory !  " 

"  Glory  !  "  answered  an  echo  across  the  gorge. 

John  laughed.  "  We're  nearly  to  the  cave.  If  I 
have  to  carry  you  it  '11  double  the  danger." 

"  Oh,  yass,  seh !  you  go  on,  I'll  jine  you.  I  jis 
wants  a  few  minutes  to  myseff  faw  prayer." 

"  Cornelius,"  said  the  cautiously  stooping  youth,  "  I'm 
going  to  take  you  where  I  said  I  would,  if  I  have  to 
carry  yon  there  in  three  pieces.  Here — wait — I'd  bet 
ter  tote  you  on  my  back.  Put  your  arms  around  my 


126  J OH X  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

neck.  Now  give  me  your  legs.  That's  it.  Now,  hold 
firm  ;  one  false  step  and  over  we  go." 

lie  slowly  picked  his  way.  Once  he  stopped,  while 
a  stone  which  had  crumbled  from  under  his  tread  went 
crashing  through  the  bushes  and  into  the  yawning  gulf. 
The  footing  was  terribly  narrow  for  several  rods,  but  at 
length  it  widened,  lie  crouched  again.  "Now,  get 
off;  the  rest  is  only  some  steep  climbing  in  the  bushes." 

"Mr.  March,  I  ain't  eveh  goin'  to  git  down  to  God's 
blessed  level  groun'  ag'in  !  " 

"Think  not?  You'll  be  there  in  five  seconds  if  you 
take  hold  of  any  dead  wood.  Come  on." 

They  climbed  again,  hugged  the  cliff  while  they  took 
breath,  climbed  once  more,  forebore  to  look  down,  and 
soon,  crowding  into  what  had  seemed  but  a  shallow 
cleft,  were  stooping  under  the  low  roof  of  a  small 
cavern.  Its  close  rocky  bounds  and  tumbled  floor 
sparkled  here  and  there  in  the  light  of  the  matches 
John  struck.  From  their  pockets  the  pair  laid  out  a 
scant  store  of  food. 

"  Now  I  must  go,"  said  John.  "  I'll  come  again  to 
morrow  night.  You're  safe  here.  You  may  find  a 
snake  or  two,  but  you  don't  mind  that,  do  you  ? " 

"Me?  Law,  no!  not  real  ones.  Di'mon'-back 
rattlesnake  hisself  cayn't  no  mo'  scare  me  'n  if  I  was  a 
hawg.  Good-by,  sell." 

How  the  heavy-eyed  youth  the  next  day  finished  his 
examinations  he  scarcely  knew  himself,  but  he  hoped  he 
had  somehow  passed.  He  could  not  slip  away  from 
Rosemont  until  after  bedtime,  and  the  night  was  half 
gone  when  he  reached  the  cliff  under  Lover's  Leap.  A 


A   SUMMONS  FOR   THE  JUDGE  127 

light  rain  increased  the  risk  of  the  climb,  but  he 
reached  the  cave  in  safety  only  to  find  it  deserted.  On 
his  way  down  he  discovered  ample  signs  that  the  pro 
miscuous  lover,  an  hour  or  two  before,  had  slowly, 
safely,  and  in  the  "  skilfullest  way  "  reached  the  arms 
of  liis  most  dangerous  but  dearest  love;  "  cooned  it 
every  step,"  John  said,  talking  to  his  horse  as  they 
trudged  back  toward  Roscmont.  "  What  the  rattle 
snakes  couldn't  do,"  he  added,  "the  bottle-snake  has 
done." 

Mr.  Leggett's  perils  might  not  be  over,  but  out  of  the 
youth's  hands  meant  of}'  his  indulgent  conscience,  and 
John  returned  to  his  slighted  books,  quickened  in  all 
his  wilful  young  blood  by  the  knowledge  that  a  single 
night  of  adventurous  magnanimity  had  made  him  hence 
forth  master  of  himself,  his  own  purposes,  and  his  own 
mistakes. 


XXIII. 

A    SUMMONS    FOR    THE    JUDGE 

BACCALAUREATE  SUNDAY.  It  was  hot,  even  for 
Suez.  The  river  seemed  to  shine  with  heat.  Yet  every 
convenient  horse-rack  was  crowded  with  horses,  more 
than  half  of  them  under  side-saddles,  and  in  the  square 
neighing  steeds,  tied  to  swinging  limbs  because  too  emo 
tionally  noble  to  share  their  privileges  with  anything 
they  could  kick,  pawed,  wheeled,  and  gazed  after  their 


128  JOHN  MARCH,   SOUTHERNER 

vanished  riders  as  if  to  say,  "  Ton  my  word,  if  lie  hasn't 
gone  to  church" 

The  church,  Parson  Tombs's,  was  packed.  Men  were 
not  few,  yet  the  pews  and  the  aisles,  choked  with  chairs 
from  end  to  end,  were  one  yeast  of  muslins,  lawns,  and 
organdies,  while  everywhere  the  fans  pulsed  and  danced 
a  hundred  measures  at  once  in  fascinating  con 
fusion. 

In  the  amen  pews  on  the  right  sat  all  Montrose  ;  facing 
them,  on  the  left,  sat  all  Rosemont,  except  the  principal ; 
Garnet  was  with  the  pastor  in  the  pulpit.  The  Governor 
of  Dixie  was  present ;  the  first  one  they  of  the  old  regime 
had  actually  gotten  into  the  gubernatorial  chair  since 
the  darkies  had  begun  to  vote.  Two  members  of  the 
Governor's  staff  sat  in  a  front  pew  in  uniform;  blue! 

"  See  that  second  man  on  the  left  ?  "  whispered  Cap 
tain  Shotwell  to  an  old  army  friend  from  Charleston ; 
"  that  handsome  felleh  with  the  wavy  auburn  hair,  soft 
mustache,  and  big,  sawt  o'  pawnderin' eyes?  " 

"What!  that  the  Governor?  He  can't  be  over 
thirty  or  thirty-one !  " 

"  Governor,  no  !  he  wouldn't  take  the  governorship  ; 
that's  Jeff-Jack  Ravenel,  editor  of  the  Courier,  a-ablest 
man  in  Dixie.  No,  that's  the  Governor  next  to  him." 

"  That  old  toad  ?  Why,  he's  a  moral  hulk ;  look  at 
his  nose ! " 

"  Yes,  it's  a  pity,  but  we  done  the  best  we  could — had 
to  keep  the  alignment,  you  know.  His  brother  leases 
and  sublets  convicts,  five  stockades  of  'em,  and  ought  to 
be~oiie  himself. 

"  These  girls  inside  the  altar-rail,  they're  the  academy 


A   SUMMONS  FOR   THE  JUDGE  129 

chorus.  That  one?  Oh,  that's  Halliday's  daughter. 
Yass,  beautiful,  but  you  should  'a'  seen  her  three  years 
ago.  No  use  talkin',  seh — I  wouldn't  say  so  to  a  Yan 
kee,  but — ow  climate's  hard  on  beauty.  Teach  in  the 
acad'?  Oh!  no,  seh,  she  jus'  sings  with  'em.  Magnifi 
cent  voice.  Some  Yankees  here  last  week  allowed 
they'd  rutlier  hear  her  than  Adelina  Patti — in  some 
sawngs. 

"  She's  an  awful  man-killeh ;  repo'ted  engaged  to 
five  fl-llehs  at  once,  Jeff-  Jack  included.  I  don't 
know  whether  it's  true  or  not,  but  you  know  how  ow 
Dixie  gyirls  ah,  seh.  An'  yet,  seh,  when  they  marry, 
as  they  all  do,  where'll  you  find  mo'  devoted  wives? 
This  ain't  the  Ian'  o'  divo'ces,  seh ;  this  is  the  Ian'  o' 
loose  engagements  an'  tight  marriages. 

"  D'  you  see  that  gyirl  in  the  second  row  of  Montroses, 
soft  eyes,  sawt  o'  deep-down  roguish,  round,  straight 
neck,  head  set  so  nice  on  it?  That's  Gyarnet's 
daughteh.  That  gyirl's  not  as  old  as  she  looks,  by  three 
years." 

He  ceased.  The  chorus  under  the  high  pulpit  stood 
up,  sang,  and  sat  again.  Parson  Tombs,  above  them, 
rose  with  extended  arms,  and  the  services  had  begun. 
The  chorus  stood  again,  and  the  church  choir  faced  them 
from  the  gallery  and  sang  with  them  antiphonally,  to 
the  spiritual  discomfort  of  many  who  counted  it  the 
latest  agony  of  modernness.  In  the  long  prayer  the 
diversity  of  sects  and  fashions  showed  forth  ;  but  a  ma 
jority  tried  hard  not  to  resent  any  posture  different  from 
their  own,  although  Miss  Martha  Salter  and  many 
others  who  buried  their  faces  in  their  own  seats,  knew 


130  JOHN  MARCH,   SOUTHERNER 

that  Mr.  KavenePs  eyes  were  counting  the  cracks  in  the 
plastering. 

Barbara  knelt  forward — the  Montrose  mode.  She 
heard  Parson  Tombs  confess  the  Job-like  loathsomeness 
of  everyone  present ;  but  his  long-familiar,  chanting 
monotones  fainted  and  died  in  the  portals  of  her  ears  like 
a  nurse's  song,  while  her  sinking  eyelids  shut  not  out, 
but  in,  one  tallish  Rosemont  senior  who  had  risen  in 
prayer  visibly  heavy  with  the  sleep  he  had  robbed  from 
three  successive  nights.  The  chirp  of  a  lone  cricket 
somewhere  under  the  floor  led  her  forth  in  a  half  dream 
beyond  the  town  and  the  gleaming  turnpike,  across  wide 
fields  whose  multitudinous,  tiny  life  rasped  and  buzzed 
under  the  vibrant  heat ;  and  so  on  to  Rosemont,  dear 
Rosemont,  and  the  rose  mother  there. 

Her  fan  stops.  An  unearthly  sweetness,  an  uncon 
ditioned  bliss,  a  heavenly  disembodiment  too  perfect 
for  ecstasy,  an  oblivion  surcharged  with  light,  a  blessed 
rarefaction  of  self  that  fills  the  house,  the  air,  the  sky, 
and  ascends  full  of  sweet  odors  and  soothing  sounds, 
wafts  her  up  on  the  cadenced  lullaby  of  the  long,  long 
prayer.  Is  it  finished?  lS"o. 

"  Oh,  quicken  our  drowsy  powers !  "  she  hears  the 
pastor  cry  on  a  rising  wrave  of  monotone,  and  starts  the 
fan  again.  Is  she  in  church  or  in  Rosemont?  She 
sees  Johanna  beckoning  in  her  old,  cajoling  way,  ask 
ing,  as  in  fact,  not  fancy,  she  had  done  the  evening  be 
fore,  for  the  latest  news  of  Cornelius,  and  hearing  with 
pious  thankfulness  that  Leggett  has  reappeared  in  his 
official  seat,  made  a  speech  that  filled  the  house  with 
laughter  and  applause,  put  parties  into  a  better  humor 


A   SUMMONS  FOR   THE  JUDGE  131 

with  each  other  than  they  had  been  for  years,  and  re 
mains,  and,  for  the  present,  will  remain,  unmolested. 

Still  Parson  Tombs  is  praying.  The  fan  waggles 
briskly,  then  more  slowly — slowly — slow-ly,  and  sinks 
to  rest  on  her  white-robed  bosom.  The  head,  heavy 
with  luminous  brown  hair,  careens  gently  upon  one 
cheek ;  that  ineffably  sweet  dissolution  into  all  nature 
and  space  comes  again,  and  far  up  among  the  dream- 
clouds,  just  as  she  is  about  to  recognize  certain  happy 
faces,  there  is  a  rush  of  sound,  a  flood  of  consternation, 
a  start,  a  tumbling  in  of  consciousness,  the  five  senses 
leap  to  their  stations,  and  she  sits  upright  fluttering  her 
fan  and  glancing  round  upon  the  seated  congregation. 
The  pastor  has  said  amen. 

Garnet  spoke  extemporaneously.  The  majority,  who 
did  not  know  every  line  of  the  sermon  was  written  and 
memorized,  marvelled  at  its  facility,  and  even  some 
who  knew  admitted  it  was  wonderful  for  fervor,  rhetor 
ical  richness  and  the  skill  with  which  it  "voiced  the 
times "  without  so  much  as  touching  those  matters 
which  Dixie,  Rosemont's  Dixie,  did  not  want  touched. 
Parson  Tombs  and  others  moaned  "Amen,"  "Glory," 
"  Thaynk  Gawd,"  etc.,  after  every  great  period.  Only 
General  Halliday  said  to  his  daughter,  "He's  out  of 
focus  again;  claiming  an  exclusive  freedom  for  his  own 
set," 

The  text  was,  "  But  I  was  born  free." 

Paul,  the  speaker  said,  was  as  profound  a  believer  in 
law  as  in  faith.  Jealous  for  every  right  of  his  citizen 
ship,  he  might  humble  himself,  but  he  never  lightly 
allowed  himself  to  be  humbled.  Law  is  essential  to 


132  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

every  civil  order,  but  the  very  laying  of  it  upon  a  man 
makes  it  his  title-deed  to  a  freedom  without  which 
obedience  is  not  obedience,  nor  citizenship  citizenship. 
No  man  is  entirely  free  to  fill  out  the  full  round  of  his 
whole  manhood  who  is  not  in  some  genuine,  generous 
way  an  author  of  the  laws  he  obeys.  "  At  this  sacred 
desk  and  on  this  holy  day  I  thank  God  that  Dixie's 
noble  sons  and  daughters  are  at  last,  after  great  tribula 
tions,  freer  from  laws  and  government  not  of  their  own 
choice  than  ever  before  since  war  furled  its  torn  and 
blood-drenched  banner !  We  have  taught  the  world — 
and  it's  worth  the  tribulation  to  have  taught  the  world 
—under  God,  that  a  people  born  with  freedom  in  the 
blood  cannot  be  forced  even  to  do  right !  '  What  you 
order  me  to  do,  alien  lawmaker,  may  be  right,  but  I 
was  born  free  ! '  My  first  duty  to  God  is  to  be  free,  and 
no  freedom  is  freedom  till  it  is  purged  of  all  in 
dignity  ! 

"  But  mark  the  limitation  !  Freemen  are  not  made 
in  a  dayj  It  was  to  a  man  who  had  bought  his  free 
dom  that  Paul  boasted  a  sort  that  could  not  be  bought ! 
God's  word  for  it,  it  takes  at  least  two  generations  to 
make  true  freemen ;  fathers  to  buy  the  freedom  and 
sons  and  daughters  to  be  born  into  it !  Wherefore  let 
every  one  to  whom  race  and  inheritance  have  given 
beauty  or  talent,  and  to  whom  the  divine  ordering  of 
fortune  and  social  rank  has  added  quality  and  scholar 
ship,  hold  it  the  first  of  civic  virtues  to  reply  to  every 
mandate  of  law  or  fate,  Law  is  law,  and  right  is  right, 
but,  first  of  all,  I  was  born  free,  and,  please  God,  I'll 
die  so ! 


A   SUMMONS  FOR   THE  JUDGE  133 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  graduating  class  :  " 

Nine  trim,  g""y  jackets  rose,  and  John  March  was 
the  tallest.  Tin  speaker  proceeded,  but  he  had  not 
spoken  many  wcrls  before  he  saw  the  attention  of  his 
hearers  was  gone.  A  few  smiled  behind  their  hands  or 
bit  their  lips ;  men  kept  a  frowning  show  of  listening  to 
the  address;  women's  faces  exchanged  looks  of  pity, 
and  John  turned  red  to  his  collar.  For,  just  behind 
the  Governor,  the  noble  head  and  feeble  frame  of  Judge 
March  had  risen  unconsciously  when  his  son  rose,  and 
now  stood  among  the  seated  multitude,  gazing  on  the 
speaker  and  drinking  in  his  words  with  a  sweet,  glad 
face.  The  address  went  on,  but  no  one  heard  it.  Nor 
did  any  one  move  to  disturb  the  standing  figure ;  all 
Suez,  nay,  the  very  girls  of  Montrose  knew  that  he  who 
seemed  to  stand  there  with  trembling  knees  and  wab 
bling  hands  was  in  truth  not  there,  but  was  swallowed 
up  and  lost  in  yonder  boy. 

Garnet  was  vexed.  He  shortened  the  address,  and 
its  last,  eloquent  sentence  Avas  already  begun  when 
Ravenel  rose  and  through  room  swiftly  made  for  him 
stepped  back  to  Judge  March.  He  was  just  in  time  to 
get  an  arm  under  his  head  and  shoulders  as  he  sank 
limply  into  the  pew,  looking  up  with  a  smile  and  trying 
to  say  nothing  was  wrong  and  to  attend  again  to  the 
speaker.  Garnet's  hearers  were  overcome,  but  the 
effect  was  not  his.  Their  gaze  was  on  the  fallen  man ; 
and  when  General  Halliday  cleared  his  sight  with  an 
agitated  handkerchief,  and  one  by  one  from  the  son's 
wide  open  eyes,  the  hot,  salt  tears  slipped  down  to  the 
twitching  corners  of  his  mouth,  and  the  aged  pastor's 


134  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

voice  trembled  in  a  hurried  benediction,  women  sobbed 
and  few  eyes  were  dry. 

"  Father,"  said  John,  "  can  you  hear  me  ?  Do  you 
know  me  ? " 

A  glad  light  overspread  the  face  for  reply.  But 
after  it  came  a  shadow,  and  Doctor  Coffin  said, 
softly, 

"  He's  trying  to  ask  something." 

Fannie  Halliday  sat  fanning  the  patient.  She 
glanced  up  to  Garnet  just  at  John's  back  and  murmured, 

"  He  probably  wants  to  know  if " 

John  turned  an  eager  glance  to  his  principal,  and 
Garnet  nodded  "  Yes." 

"  Father,"  cried  John,  "  I've  passed !  I've  passed, 
father ;  I've  passed  !  Do  you  hear,  dear  father  ?  " 

The  Major  touched  the  bending  youth  and  mur 
mured  something  more.  John  turned  back  upon  him  a 
stare  of  incredulity,  but  Garnet  smiled  kindly  and  said 
aloud, 

"  I  tell  you  yes ;  it  will  be  announced  to-morrow." 

"  Father,"  cried  John,  stooping  close  to  the  wander 
ing  eyes,  "can  you  see  me?  I'm  John!  I'm  son! 
Can  you  hear  me,  father?  Father,  I've  got  first 
honors — first  honors,  father !  Oh,  father,  look  into  my 
eyes ;  it  will  be  a  sign  that  you  hear  me.  Father, 
listen,  look ;  I'm  going  to  be  a  better  son — to  you  and 
to  mother — Oh,  he  hears  me  !  He  understands — " 
The  physician  drew  him  away. 

They  carried  the  sick  man  to  the  nearest  house. 
Late  in  the  afternoon  Tom  Hersey  and  two  or  three 
others  were  talking  together  near  the  post-office. 


THE  GOLDEN  SPIKE  135 

"Now,  f'r  instance,  what  right  had  he  to  give  that 
boy  first  honors !  As  sho's  you're  a  foot  high,  that's  a 
piece  o'  pyo  log-rollin'." — Doctor  Coffin  came  by. — 
"  Doctor,  I  understand  Mrs.  March  has  arrived.  I 
hope  the  Jedge  is  bctteh,  seh. — What? — Why — why, 
you  supprise — why,  I'm  mighty  sorry  to  heah  that,  seh. 
—  Gentlemen,  Jedge  March  is  dead." 


XXIV. 

THE    GOLDEN    SPIKE 

ABOUT  a  week  beyond  the  middle  of  June,  1878, 
wThen  John  March  had  been  something  like  a  year  out 
of  Rosemont  and  nine  months  a  teacher  of  mountain 
lads  and  lasses  at  Widewood,  Barbara  finished  at 
Montrose.  She  did  not  read  her  graduation  essay. 
Its  subject  was  Time.  Its  spelling  was  correct,  and  it 
was  duly  resetted  and  streamered,  but  it  was  regretfully 
suppressed  because  its  pages  wrere  mainly  given  to  joy 
ous  emphasis  of  the  advantages  of  wasting  the  hours. 
Miss  Garnet  had  not  been  a  breaker  of  rules ;  yet 
when  she  waved  farewell  and  the  younger  Miss  Kin- 
sington  turned  back  indoors  saying, 

"  Dearest,  best  girl !  "  the  sister  added,  affectionately — 

"  That  we  ever  got  rid  of." 

On  a  day  near  the  middle  of  the  following  month 
there  began  almost  at  dawn  to  be  a  great  stir  in  and 


1-36  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

about  Suez.  The  sun  came  up  over  Widewood  with  a 
shout,  hallooing  to  Rosemont  a  promise  for  all  Dixie  of 
the  most  ripening  hours,  thus  far,  of  the  year,  and 
woods,  fields,  orchards,  streams,  answered  with  a  morn 
ing  incense.  Johanna  stood  whispering  loudly  at  Bar 
bara's  bedside : 

"  Week  up,  honey ;  sun  high  an'  scoldin' !  jess  a-fuss- 
in'  an'  a-scoldin' !  "  One  dark  hand  lifted  back  the 
white  mosquito-net  while  the  other  tendered  a  cup  of 
coffee. 

Barbara  winked,  scowled,  laid  her  wrists  on  the 
maid's  shoulders  and  smiled  into  her  black  face. 
Johanna  put  away  a  brown  wave  of  hair.  "  Come  on, 
missie,  dat-ah  young  Yankee  gen'leman  frien'  up  an' 
out," 

Barbara  bit  her  lip  in  mock  dismay.  "  Has  he  de- 
part-ed?"  She  had  a  droll  liking  for  long  words,  and 
often  deployed  their  syllables  as  skirmishers  in  the  rear 
for  her  sentences. 

Johanna  tittered.  "Humph!  you  know  mawnstus 
well  he  ain't  gone.  Miss  Barb,  duss  do  onyess  maan  I 
evcli  see  wear  a  baang.  AVlia'  fuh  he  do  dat?  " 

"  I  must  ask  him,"  said  Barbara,  sipping  her  coffee. 
"It's  probably  in  fulfillment  of  a  vow." 

The  maid  tittered  again.  "  You  cayn't  ast  as  much 
as  he  kin.  But  dass  my  notice  'twix  Yankees  an'  ow 
folks ;  Dixie  man  say,  Fine  daay,  sch !  Yankee  say, 
You  think  it  a-gwine  fo'  to  raain  ?  Dixie  man — Oh, 
no,  seh  !  hit  jiss  cayn't  rain  to-day,  seh  !  Den  if  it  jiss 
po'  down  Yankee  say,  Don't  dis-yeh  look  somepm  like 
raain?  An'  Dixie  man — Yass,  seh,  hit  do;  hit  look 


THE  GOLDEN  SPIKE  137 

like  raain,  but  Law' !  hit  ain't  raain.  You  Yankees 
cayn't  un'stan'  ow  Southc'n  wcatheh,  seh !  " 

Only  Johanna  laughed.  Presently  Barbara  asked, 
"Have  you  seen  pop-a?  " 

"  Yo'  paw  ?  Oh,  yass'm,  he  in  de  wes'  grove,  oveh 
whah  we  'llowin'  to  buil'  de  new  dawmontory.  He  jiss 
a-po'in'  info'mations  into  de  Yankee."  Barbara  laughed 
this  time — at  the  Yankee — and  Johanna  mimicked  : 
"  Mr.  Fair,  yo'  come  to  see  a  beautiful  an'  thrivin'  town, 
seh.  Suez  is  change'  dat  much  yo'  fatheli  wouldn' 
know  it  ag'in  !  " 

"  Pop-a's  right  about  that,  Johanna." 

"  Oh,  yass'm."  Johanna  was  rebuked ;  but  Bar 
bara  smiled.  By  and  by — "  Miss  Barb,  kin  I  ax  you  a 
favo'  ? — Yass'm.  Make  yo'  paw  put  me  som'ers  in  de 
crowd  to-day  whah  I  ken  see  you  when  you  draps  de 
hammeh  on  de  golden  spike — Law' !  dass  de  dress  o' 
dresses !  You  looks  highly  fitt'n'  to  eat !  " 

Young  Fair  had  come  to  see  the  last  spike  driven  in 
the  Pulaski  City,  Suez  and  Great  South  Railroad. 

At  breakfast  Mrs.  Garnet  poured  the  coffee.  Garnet 
told  the  New  Englander  much  about  New  England, 
touching  extenuatingly  on  the  blueness  of  its  laws,  the 
decay  of  its  religion,  and  the  inevitable  decline  of  its 
industries.  The  visitor,  with  only  an  occasional  "  Don't 
you  think,  however  " — seemed  edified.  It  pleased  Bar 
bara  to  see  how  often,  nevertheless,  his  eye  wandered 
from  the  speaker  to  the  head  of  the  board  to  rest  on  one 
so  lovely  it  scarce  signified  that  she  was  pale  and  wasted  ; 
one  whose  genial  dignity  perfected  the  firmness  with 
which  she  declined  her  daughter's  offer  to  take  her  place 


138      JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

and  task,  and  smiled  her  down  while  Johanna  smoothed 
away  a  grin. 

The  hour  of  nine  struck.  Fair  looked  startled. 
"Were  we  not  to  have  joined  Mr.  Kavenel's  party  in 
Suez  by  this  time?" 

"Yes,  but  there's  no  hurry.  Still,  wre'll  start.  Jo 
hanna,  get  your  lunch-baskets.  Sorry  you  don't  meet 
Mr.  March,  sir;  he's  a  trifle  younger  than  you,  but 
you'd  like  him.  I  asked  him  to  go  with  us,  but  his 
mother — why,  wa'n't  that  all  right,  Barb  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  wasn't  wrong."  Barbara  smiled  to  her 
mother.  "  It  was  only  useless  ;  he  always  declines  if  I 
don't.  We're  very  slightly  acquainted.  I  hope  that 
accounts  for  it."  She  arched  her  brows. 

As  she  and  the  young  visitor  stood  by  the  carriage 
while  Johanna  and  the  luncheon  were  being  stowed 
he  said  something  so  graceful  about  Mrs.  Garnet  that 
Barbara  looked  into  his  face  with  delight  and  the 
Major  had  to  speak  his  name  twice  befor  he  heard  it. — 
"  Ready  ?  Yes,  quite  so.  Shall  I  sit — oh  !  pardon  ;  yes 
— in  front,  certainly." 

The  Major  drove.  The  young  guest  would  gladly 
have  talked  with  Barbara  as  she  sat  back  of  him  and 
behind  her  father;  but  Garnet  held  his  attention. 
Crossing  Turkey  Creek  battle-ground 

"  Just  look  at  those  oats !  See  that  wheat !  Cotton, 
ah,  but  you  ought  to  see  the  cotton  down  in  Black- 
land !" 

When  the  pike  was  dusty  and  the  horses  walked  they 
were  frequently  overtaken  and  passed  by  cavalcades  of 
lank,  hard-faced  men  in  dingy  homespun,  and  cadaver- 


THE  GOLDEN  SPIKE  139 

ous  women  with  snuff-sticks  and  slouched  sun-bonnets. 
Major  Garnet  bowed  to  them. 

"  Those  are  our  Sandstone  County  mountaineers  ;  our 
yeomanry,  sir.  Suez  holds  these  three  counties  in  a  sort 
o'  triple  alliance.  You  make  a  great  mistake,  sir,  to 
go  off  to-morrow  without  seeing  the  Widewood  district. 
You've  seen  the  Alps,  and  I'd  just  like  to  hear  you  say 
which  of  the  two  is  the  finer.  There's  enough  mineral 
wealth  in  Widewood  alone  to  make  Suez  a  Pittsburg, 
and  water-power  enough  to  make  her  a  Minneapolis, 
and  we're  going  to  make  her  both,  sir  !  "  The  mono 
logue  became  an  avalanche  of  coal,  red  hematite,  mar 
ble,  mica,  manganese,  tar,  timber,  turpentine,  lumber, 
loud,  ochre,  and  barytes,  with  signs  of  silver,  gold,  and 
diamonds. 

"  Don't  you  think,  however " 

"  Xo,  sir !  no-o-o  !  far  from  it " 


A  stifled  laugh  came  from  where  Johanna's  face 
darkened  the  corner  it  occupied.  Barbara  looked,  but 
the  maid  seemed  lost  in  sad  reverie. 

"  Burl),  yonder's  where  Jeff-Jack  and  I  stopped  to 
dine  on  blackberries  the  day  we  got  home  from  the  war. 
Now,  there's  the  railroad  cut  on  the  far  side  of  it. 
There,  you  see,  Mr.  Fair,  the  road  skirts  the  creek  west 
ward  and  then  northwestward  again,  leaving  Rosemont 
a  mile  to  the  northeast.  See  that  house,  Barb,  about 
half  a  mile  beyond  the  railroad?  There's  where  the 
man  found  his  plumbago."  The  speaker  laughed  and 
told  the  story.  The  discoverer  had  stolen  off  by  night, 
got  an  expert  to  come  and  examine  it,  and  would  tell 
the  result  only  to  one  friend,  and  in  a  whisper.  "  *  You 


140  jo inv  .if A  R  en,  so  u  THERNER 

haven't  got  much  plumbago,'  the  expert  had  said,  '  but 
you've  got  dead  oodles  of  silica.'  You  know,  Barb, 
silica's  nothing  but  flint,  ha-ha !  " 

Fair  smiled.  In  his  fortnight's  travel  through  the 
New  Dixie  plumbago  was  the  only  mineral  on  which  he 
had  not  heard  the  story  based. 

A  military  horseman  overtook  the  carriage  and 
slackened  to  a  fox-trot  at  Garnet's  side.  "Captain 
Champion,  let  me  make  you  acquainted  with  Mr.  Fair. 
Mr.  Fair  and  his  father  have  put  money  into  our  New 
Dixie,  and  he's  just  going  around  to  see  where  he  can 
put  in  more.  I  tell  him  he  can't  go  amiss.  All  we 
want  in  Dixie  is  capital." 

"Mr.  Fair  doesn't  think  so,"  said  Barbara,  with 
great  sweetness. 

"  All !  I  merely  asked  whether  capital  doesn't  seek 
its  own  level.  Mustn't  its  absence  be  always  because  of 
some  deeper  necessity?  " 

Champion  stood  on  his  guard.  "  Why,  I  don't  know 
why  capital  shouldn't  be  the  fundamental  need,  sell,  of 
a  country  that's  been  impoverished  by  a  great  waugh  !  " 

Barbara  exulted,  but  Garnet  was  for  peace.  "  I  sup 
pose  you'll  find  Suez  swarming  with  men,  women,  and 
horses." 

"  Yes,"  said  Champion — Fair  was  speaking  to  Bar 
bara — "to  say  nothing  of  yahoos,  centaurs,  and  nig- 
gehs."  The  Major's  abundant  laugh  flattered  him  ;  he 
promised  to  join  the  party  at  luncheon,  lifted  his  plumed 
shako,  and  galloped  away.  Garnet  drove  into  the  edge 
of  the  town  at  a  trot. 

"Here's  where  the  reservoir's  to  be,"   he  said,  and 


THE  GOLDEN  SPIKE  141 

spun  down  the  slope  into  the  shaded  avenue,  and  so  to 
the  town's  centre. 

"  Laws-a-me  !  Miss  Barb,"  whispered  Johanna,  "  but 
dis-yeh  town  is  change' !  New  hotel !  brick !  th'ee 
sto'ies  high !  "  Barbara  touched  her  for  silence. 

"  But  look  at   de   new  sto'es !  "   murmured  the  girl. 
Negroes — the  men  in  dirty  dusters,  the  women  in  smart    -f- 
calicoes,   girls   in  dowdy  muslins  and  boy's  hats — and 
mountain  whites,  coatless  men,  shoeless  women — hung 
about  the  counters  dawdling  away  their  small  change 

"  Colored  and  white  treated  precisely  alike,  YOU 
notice,"  said  Garnet,  and  Barbara  suppressed  a  faint 
grunt  from  Johanna. 

Trade  had  spread  into  side-streets.  Drinking-houses 
were  gayly  bedight  and  busy. 

"  That's  the  new  Courier  building." 

The  main  crowd  had  gone  down  to  the  railway 
tracks,  and  it  was  midsummer,  yet  you  could  see  and 
feel  the  town's  youth. 

"  Why,  the  nig — colored  people  have  built  themselves 
a  six-hundred  dollar  church ;  we  white  folks  helped 
them,"  said  Garnet,  who  had  given  fifty  cents.  "See 
that  new  sidewalk  ?  Our  chain-gang  did  that,  sir ; 
made  the  bricks  and  laid  tjie  pavement." 

The  court-house  was  newly  painted.  Only  Hotel 
Swanee  and  the  two  white  churches  remained  untouched, 
sleeping  on  in  green  shade  and  sweet  age. 

The  Garnet's  wheels  bickered  down  the  town's  south 
ern  edge  and  out  upon  a  low  slope  of  yellow,  deep-gul 
lied  sand  and  clay  that  scarce  kept  on  a  few  weeds  to 
hide  its  nakedness  while  gathering  old  duds  and  tins. 


142  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

"Yonder  are  the  people,  and  here,  sir,"  Garnet 
pointed  to  where  the  green  Swanee  lay  sweltering  like 
the  Nile,  "  is  the  stream  that  makes  the  tears  trickle  in 
every  true  Southerner's  heart  when  he  hears  its  song." 

"Still  'Always  longing  for  the  old  plantation?'" 
asked  the  youth. 

"Yes,"  said  Barbara,  defiantly. 

The  carriage  stopped  ;  half  a  dozen  black  ragamuffins 
rushed  up  offering  to  take  it  in  charge,  and  its  occu 
pants  presently  stood  among  the  people  of  three  counties. 
For  Blackland,  Clearwater,  and  Sandstone  had  gathered 
here  a  hundred  or  two  of  their  gentlest  under  two  long 
sheds  on  either  side  of  the  track,  and  the  sturdier  multi 
tude  under  green  booths  or  out  in  the  sunlight  about 
yonder  dazzling  gun,  to  hail  the  screaming  herald  of  a 
new  destiny ;  a  destiny  that  openly  promised  only 
wealth,  yet  freighted  with  profounder  changes ;  changes 
which,  ban  or  delay  them  as  they  might,  would  still  be 
destiny  at  last. 

Entering    a    shed    Barbara    laughed    with    delight. 

"  Fannie !  " 

"  Barb  !  "  cried  Fannie.  A  volley  of  salutations  fol 
lowed  :  "  Good-morning,  Major  " — "  Why,  howdy, 
Doctor. — Howdy,  Jeff-Jack. — Shotwell,  how  are  you? 
Let  me  make  you  acquainted  with  Mr.  Fair.  Mr. 
Fair,  Captain  Shotwell.  Mr.  Fair  and  his  father,  Cap 
tain,  have  put  some  money  into  our  " — A  tall,  sallow, 
youngish  man  touched  the  speaker's  elbow — "  Why, 
hel-lo,  Proudfit!  Colonel  Proudfit,  let  me  make 
you,"  etc. — "  I  hope  you  brought — why,  Sister  Proud- 
fit,  I  decl' — aha,  ha,  ha! — You  know  Barb?" 


THE  GOLDEN  SPIKE  143 

General  Halliday  said,  "John  Wesley,  how  goes 
it?" 

Garnet  sobered.  "Good-morning,  Launcelot.  Mr. 
Fair,  let  me  make  you  acquainted  with  General  Halli 
day.  You  mustn't  believe  all  he  says — ha,  ha,  ha! 
Still,  when  a  radical  does  speak  well  of  us  you  may 
know  it's  so  !  Launcelot,  Mr.  Fair  and  his  father  have 
put  some  money  " — Half  a  dozen  voices  said  "  Sh-sh  ! " 

"Ladies  and  gentlewe/i/ "  cried  Captain  Shotwell. 
"The  first  haalf— the  fro'— the  front  haalf  of  the 
traain — of  the  expected  traain — is  full  of  people 
from  Pulaaski  City !  The  ster' — the  rear  haalf  is 
reserved  faw  the  one  hundred  holdehs  of  these  red 
tickets."  (Applause.)  "Ayfter  the  shor'— brief  puf- 
fawn' — cerenv — exercises,  the  traain,  bein'  filled,  will 
run  up  to  Pulaaski  City,  leave  that  section  of  which, 
aw  toe  which,  aw  at  least  in  which,  that  is,  belonging 
toe — I  mean  the  people  containing  the  Pulaaski  City 
section  (laughter  and  applause) — or  rather  the  sec 
tion  contained  by  the  Pu — (deafening  laughter) — I 
should  saay  the  city  containing  the  Pulaas' — (roars 
of  laughter) — Well,  gentlemen,  if  you  know  what  1 
wrant  to  say  betteh  than  I  do,  jest  say  it  yo'se'ves 
an ' " 

His  face  was  red  and  he  added  something  unintelli 
gible  about  them  all  going  to  a  terminus  not  on  that 
road,  while  Captain  Champion,  coming  to  his  rescue, 
proclaimed  that  the  Suez  section  would  be  brought 
back,  "  expectiu'  to  arrive  hyeh  an  hou'  by  sun.  An' 
now,  ladies  and  gentle??ie??,  I  propose  three  cheers  faw 
that  gallant  an'  accomplished  gentleman,  Cap'm  Shot- 


144  JOHN  MARCH,   SOUTHERNER 

well — hip-hip —         And  the  company  gave  them,  with 
a  tiger. 

At  that  moment,  faint  and  far,  the  whistle  sounded. 
The  great  outer  crowd  ran  together,  all  looking  one 
way.  Again  it  sounded,  nearer  ;  and  then  again,  near 
and  loud.  The  multitude  huzzaed  ;  the  bell  clanged  ; 
gay  with  flags  the  train  came  thundering  in  ;  out  in 
the  blazing  sunlight  Captain  Champion,  with  sword  un 
sheathed,  cried  "  Fire  !  "  The  gun  flashed  and  crashed, 
the  earth  shook,  the  people's  long  shout  went  up,  the 
sax-horns  sang  "  Way  Down  upon  the  Swanee  River " 
— and  the  tears  of  a  true  Southerner  leaped  into  Bar 
bara's  eyes.  She  turned  and  caught  young  Fair  smil 
ing  at  it  all,  and  most  of  all  at  her,  yet  in  a  way  that 
earned  her  own  smile. 

The  speeches  were  short  and  stirring.  When  Ravenel 
began — "  Friends  and  fellow-citizens,  this  is  our  Susie's 
wedding,"  the  people  could  hardly  be  done  cheering. 
Then  Barbara,  by  him  led  forth  and  followed  by  Jo 
hanna's  eager  eyes,  gave  the  spike  its  first  wavering  tap, 
the  president  of  the  road  drove  it  home,  and  "Susie" 
was  bound  in  wedlock  to  the  Age.  Married  for  money, 
some  might  say.  Yet  married,  bound — despite  all  in 
compatibilities — to  be  shaped — if  not  at  once  by  choice, 
then  at  last  by  merciless  necessity — to  all  that  Age's 
lines  and  standards,  to  walk  wherever  it  should  lead, 
partner  in  all  its  vicissitudes,  pains  and  fates. 

The  train  moved.  Mr.  Fair  sat  with  Barbara. 
Major  Grant  secured  a  seat  beside  Sister  Proudfit— 
"  a]ia — ha-ha !  " — "  t-he-he-he-he  !  "  Fannie  gave  Shot- 
well  the  place  beside  her,  and  so  on.  Even  Johanna, 


BY  RAIL  145 

by  taking  a  child  in  her  lap,  got  a  seat.  But  Ravenel 
and  Colonel  Proudfit  had  to  stand  up  beside  Fannie 
and  Barbara.  Thus  it  fell  out  that  when  everyone 
laughed  at  a  moonshiner's  upsetting  on  a  pile  of  loose 
telegraph  poles,  Ravenel,  looking  out  from  over  the 
swarm  of  heads,  saw  something  which  moved  him  to 
pull  the  bell-cord. 

"  Two  people  wanting  to  get  on,"  said  Shotwell,  as 
Ravenel  went  to  the  coach's  rear  platform.  "  They  in 
a  buggy.  Xow  they  out.  Here  they — Law',  Miss  Fan 
nie,  who  you  reckon  it  is?  Guess!  You  cayrit, 
miss !  " 

Barbara,  with  studied  indifference,  asked  Fair  the 
time  of  day. 

"There,"  said  Shotwell,  "they've  gone  into  the  call 
behind  us." 

"  Sister  March  and  her  son,"  observed  Garnet  to  Mrs. 
Proudfit  and  the  train  moved  on. 


XXV. 

BY    RAIL 

EVERYBODY  felt  playful  and  nearly  everybody  co 
quettish.  When  Sister  Proudfit,  in  response  to  some 
sly  gallantry  of  Garnet's  used  upon  him  a  pair  of  black 
eyes,  he  gave  her  the  whole  wealth  of  his  own.  He 
must  have  overdone  the  matter,  for  the  next  moment  he 


146  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

found  Faimie's  eyes  levelled  directly  on  him.  She 
withdrew  them  with  a  casual  remark  to  Barbara,  yet 
not  till  they  had  said  to  him,  in  solemn  silence : 

"  You  villain,  that  time  I  saw  you  ! " 

Mrs.  March  had  pushed  cheerily  into  the  rear  Suez 
coach.  Away  from  home  and  its  satieties  no  one  could 
be  more  easily  or  thoroughly  pleased.  Her  son  said 
the  forward  coach  was  better,  but  in  there  she  had 
sighted  Fannie  and  Barbara,  and  so 

"  There's  more  room  in  here,"  she  insisted  with  sweet 
buoyancy. 

Hamlet  Graves  rose.  "  Here,  Cousin  Daphne !  " 
His  brother  Lazarus  stood  up  with  him. 

"Here,  John,  your  maw'll  feel  better  if  you're 
a-sett'n'  by  her." 

But  she  urged  the  scat,  with  coy  temerity,  upon  Mr. 
Eavenel. 

"  How  well  she  looks  in  mourning,"  remarked  two 
Blackland  County  ladies.  "  Yes,  she's  pretty  yet ; 
what  a  lovely  smile." 

"  Don't  go  'way,"  she  exclaimed,  with  hostile  alarm, 
as  John  turned  toward  the  coach's  front.  lie  said  he 
would  not,  and  chose  a  standing-place  where  he  could 
watch  a  corner  of  Fannie's  distant  hat. 

"You  won't  see  many  fellows  of  age  staying  with 
their  mothers  by  choice  instead  o'  running  off  after  the 
girls,"  commented  one  of  the  Blackland  matrons,  and 
the  other  replied : 

"  They  haven't  all  got  such  mothers !  " 

Mrs.  March  was  enjoying  herself.  "  But,  Mr.  Rav- 
enel,"  she  said,  putting  off  part  of  her  exhilaration, 


BY  RAIL  147 

"  you've  really  no  right  to  be  a  bachelor."  She  smiled 
aslant. 

"  My  dear  lady,"  he  murmured,  "people  who  live  in 
gla- 

She  started  and  tried  to  look  sour,  but  grew  sweeter. 
He  became  more  grave.  "  You're  still  young,"  he  said, 
paused,  and  then — "  You're  a  true  Daphne,  but  you 
haven't  gone  all  to  laurel  yet.  I  wish — I  wish  I  could 
feel  half  as  young  as  you  look ;  I  might  hope " — he 
hushed,  sighed,  and  nerved  himself. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Ravenel ! "  She  glanced  down  with  a 
winsome  smile.  "  I'm  at  least  old  enough  to — to  stay 
as  I  am  if  I  choose  ?  " 

"  Possibly.  But  you  needn't  if  you  don't  choose."  He 
folded  his  arms  as  if  to  keep  them  from  doing  some 
thing  rash. 

Mrs.  March  bit  her  lip.  "  I  can't  imagine  who  would 
ever  " — she  bit  it  again.  "  Mr.  Ravenel,  do  you  re 
member  those  lines  of  mine — 

"  '  0  we  women  are  so  blind '  "  ? 

"  Yes.     But  don't  call  me  Mr.  Ravenel." 

"Why,  why  not?" 

"  It  sounds  so  cold."    He  shuddered. 

"  It  isn't  meant  so.  It's  not  in  my  nature  to  be  cold. 
It's  you  who  are  cold."  She  hushed  as  abruptly  as  a 
locust.  A  large  man,  wet  with  the  heat,  stood  saluting. 
Mr.  Ravenel  rose  and  introduced  Mr.  Gamble,  presi 
dent  of  the  road,  a  palpable,  rank  Westerner ;  where 
upon  it  was  she  who  was  cold.  Mr.  Gamble  praised 
the  "  panorama  gliding  by." 


148  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

"  Yes."  She  glanced  out  over  the  wide,  hot,  veering 
landscape  that  rose  and  sank  in  green  and  yellow  slopes 
of  corn,  cotton,  and  wheat.  The  president  fanned  his 
soaking  shirt-collar  and  Mrs.  March  with  a  palm-leaf  fan. 

"Mercury  ninety-nine  in  Pulaski  City,"  he  said  to 
Ravenel,  and  showed  a  telegram.  Mr.  Ravenel  began 
to  ask  if  he  might  introduce 

"Mr.  March!  Well,  you  have  changed  since  the  day 
you  took  Major  Garnet  and  Mr.  Fair  and  I  to  see  that 
view  in  the  mounhns !  If  anybody'd  a-told  me  that  I'd 
ever  be  president  of — Thanks,  no  sir."  He  wouldn't 
sit.  He'd  just  been  sitting  and  talking,  he  said,  "with 
the  two  beauties,  Miss  Halliday  and  Miss  Garnet." 
Didn't  Mrs.  March  think  them  such? 

She  confessed  they  looked  strong  and  well,  and  sighed 
an  unresentful  envy. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  they  do,  and  I  wouldn't  give  two 
cents  on  the  dollar  for  such  as  don't." 

Mrs.  March  smiled  dyingly  on  John,  and  said  she 
feared  her  son  wouldn't  either.  John  looked  distressed 
and  then  laughed ;  but  the  president  declared  her  the 
picture  of  robust  health.  This  did  not  seem  to  please 
her  entirely,  and  so  he  added, 

"  You've  got  to  be,  to  write  good  poetry.  It  must  be 
lots  of  fun,  Mrs.  March,  to  dash  off  a  rhyme  just  to 
while  away  the  time — ha,  ha,  ha!  My  wife  often 
writes  poetry  when  she  feels  tired  and  lazy.  I  know 
that  whirling  this  way  through  this  beautiful  country 
is  inspiring  you  right  now  to  write  half  a  dozen  poems. 
I'd  like  to  see  you  on  one  of  those  lovely  hillsides  in 
fine  frenzy  rolling  " — He  said  he  meant  her  eye. 


B  Y  RAIL  149 

The  poetess  blushed.  A  whimper  of  laughter  came 
from  somewhere,  but  one  man  put  his  head  quickly  out 
of  a  window,  and  another  stooped  for  something  very 
hard  to  pick  up,  while  John  explained  that  crowds  and 
dust  were  no  inspiration  to  his  mother,  who  was  here 
to-day  purely  for  his  sake.  She  sat  in  limp  revery  with 
that  faint  shade  on  her  face  which  her  son  believed 
meant  patience.  He  and  the  president  moved  a  rever 
ent  step  aside. 

"I  hear,"  said  Gamble,  in  a  business  undertone, 
"  that  your  school's  a  success." 

"  Not  financially,"  replied  John,  gazing  into  the 
forward  coach. 

"  Mr.  March,  why  don't  you  colonize  your  lands  ? 
You  can  do  it,  IIOAV  the  railroad's  here." 

"  I  would,  sir,  if  I  had  the  capital." 

"  Form  a  company !  They  furnish  the  money,  you 
furnish  the  land.  How'd  I  build  this  road  ?  I  hadn't 
either  money  or  lands.  Why,  if  your  lands  were  out  f 
West " the  speaker  turned  to  an  eavesdropper,  say 
ing  sweetly,  "  This  conversation  is  private,  sir,"  but  with 
a  look  as  if  he  would  swallow  him  without  sauce  or  salt. 

John  mused.  "My  mother  has  such  a  dislike," — 
he  hesitated. 

"I  know,"  the  president  smiled,  "the  ladies  are  all 
that  way.  If  a  thing's  theirs  it  just  makes  'em  sick  to  ^ 
see  anybody  else  make  anything  out  of  it.  I  speak 
from  experience.  They'll  die  poor,  keeping  property 
enough  idle  to  make  a  dozen  men  rich.  What's  a  man 
to  do  ?  Now,  you  " — a  long  pause,  eye  to  eye — "  your 
lands  won't  colonize  themselves." 


150  JOHN  MARCH,   SOUTHERNER 

"  Of  course  not,"  mused  John. 

The  president  showed  two  cigars.  "  Would  you  like 
to  go  to  the  smoking-car  ?  " 

March  glanced  toward  his  mother.  She  was  looking 
at  her  twTo  kinsmen  with  such  swreet  sprightliness  that 
he  had  trouble  to  make  her  see  his  uplifted  cigar.  She 
met  his  parting  smile  with  a  gleam  of  terror  and  dis 
trust,  but  he  shook  his  head  and  reddened  as  Hamlet 
winked  at  Lazarus. 

"  It  means  some  girl,"  observed  one  of  the  Blackland 
matrons. 

"  Well,  I  hope  it  does,"  responded  the  other. 

"Wait,"  said  the  giver  of  the  cigar,  "we're  stopping 
for  wood  and  water.  It'll  be  safer  to  go  round  this 
front  coach  than  through  it."  John  thought  it  would 
not,  but  yielded. 

"  Now,  Mr.  March,"  they  stood  near  the  water-tank 
— "  if  you  could  persuade  your  mother  to  give  you  full 
control,  and  let  you  get  a  few  strong  men  to  go  in  with 
Y  you — see?  They  could  make  you — well — secretary! 
— with  a  salary;  for,  of  course,  you'd  have  to  go  into 
the  thing,  hot,  yourself.  You'd  have  to  push  like 
smoke ! " 

"  Of  course,"  said  John,  squaring  his  handsome  fig 
ure  ;  as  if  he  ahvays  wrent  in  hot,  and  as  if  smoke  was 
the  very  thing  he  had  pushed  like,  for  years. 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  you  and  I " — Gamble  began 
again,  but  the  train  started,  they  took  the  smoker  and 
found  themselves  with  Halliday,  Shotwell,  Proudfit,  and 
a  huge  Englishman,  round  whom  the  other  three  were 
laughing. 


JOHN  INSULTS  THE  BRITISH  FLAG        151 

XXVI. 

JOHN    INSULTS    THE    BRITISH    FLAG 

THE  Briton  had  seen,  on  the  far  edge  of  Suez,  as  they 
were  leaving  the  town,  a  large  building. 

"  A  nahsty  brick  thing  on  top  a  dirty  yellow  hill," 
he  said  ;  what  was  it  ? 

"That?"  said  Shotwell,  "that's  faw  ow  colo'ed  youth 
o'  both  sexes.  That's  Suez  University." 

"  Univer — what  bloody  nonsense !  " 

All  but  March  ha-haed.  "We  didn't  name  it!" 
laughed  the  Captain. 

John  became  aware  that  some  one  in  a  remote  seat 
had  bowed  to   him.     He  looked,  and  the  salute  came 
again,  unctuous  and  obsequious.     He  coldly  responded^- 
and  frowned,  for  the  men  he  was  with  had  seen  it. 

Proudfit  touched  the  Briton.  "In  the  last  seat  be 
hind  you  you'll  see  the  University's  spawnsor ;  that's 
Leggett,  the  most  dangerous  demagogue  in  Dixie." 

"Is  that  your  worst?"  said  the  Englishman;  "ye 
should  know  some  of  ours  !  " 

"  O,  yes,  seh,"  exclaimed  Shotwell,  "  of  co'se  ev'y 
country's  got  'em  bad  enough.  But  here,  seh,  we've 
not  on'y  the  dahkey's  natu'al-bawn  rascality  to  deal 
with,  but  they  natu'1-bawn  stupidity  to  boot.  Evm 
Gen'l  Halliday'll  tell  you  that,  seh." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  General,  with  superior  cheerfulness, 
"  though  sometimes  the  honors  are  easy." 


152  JOHN  MARCH,   SOUTHERNER 

"0, 1  allow  we  don't  always  outwit  'em  " — everybody 
laughed — "but  sometimes  we  just  haf  to." 

"  To  save  out-shooting  them,"  suggested  the  General. 

"  0,  I  hope  we  about  done  with  that." 

"  But  you're  not  sure,"  came  the  quick  retort. 

"  No,  seh,"  replied  the  sturdy  Captain,  "  we're  not 
shore.  It  rests  with  them."  He  smoked. 

"  Go  on,  Shot,"  said  the  General,  "  you  were  going 
to  give  an  instance." 

"  Yes,  seh.  Take  Leggett,  in  the  case  o'  this  so-called 
University." 

"  That's  hardly  a  good  example,"  remarked  Proudfit, 
*  who,  for  Dixie's  and  Susie's  sake,  regretted  that  Shot- 
well  was  talking  so  much  and  he  so  little. 

"  Let  him  alone,"  said  Halliday,  thoroughly  pleased, 
and  Shotwell  went  on  stoutly. 

"  The  concern  was  started  by  Leggett  an'  his  gang — 
excuse  my  careless  terms,  Gen'l — as  the  public  high- 
school.  They  made  it  ve'y  odious  to  ow  people  by 
throwin'  it  wide  open  to  both  raaccs  instead  o'  havin' 
\  a'  sep'ate  one  faw  whites.  So  of  co'se  none  but  dahkeys 
went  to  it,  an'  they  jest  filled  it  jam  up." 

"  What  did  the  whites  do  ?  "  asked  the  Briton. 

"Why,  what  could  they  do,  seh?  You  knowT  how 
ow  people  ah.  That's  right  where  the  infernal  outrage 
come  in.  Such  as  couldn't  affode  to  go  to  Rosemont  aw 
Montrose  jest  had  to  stay  at  home  !  "  The  speaker 
looked  at  John,  who  colored  and  bit  his  cigar. 

"  So  as  soon  as  ow  crowd  got  control  of  affairs  we'd  a 
shut  the  thing  up,  on'y  faw  Jeff-Jack.  Some  Yankee 
missiona'v  teachers  come  to  him  an'  offe'd  to  make  it  a 


JOHN  INSULTS   THE  BRITISH  FLAG       153 

college  an'  spend  ten  thousand  dollahs  on  it  if  the  State 
would  on'y  go  on  giviii'  it  hafe  o'  the  three  counties' 
annual  high-school  funds." 

The  Englishman  frowned  perplexedly  and  Proudfit 
put  in — 

"  That  is,  three  thousand  a  year  from  our  three  coun 
ties'  share  of  the  scrip  on  public  lands  granted  Dixie  by 
the  Federal  Government." 

"  Expressly  for  the  support  of  public  schools,"  said 
General  Halliday,  and  March  listened  closer  than  the 
foreigner,  for  these  facts  were  newest  to  John. 

"Still,"  said  March,  "the  State  furnishes  the  main 
support  of  public  education." 

"  Xo,"  responded  Shotwell,  "  you're  wrong  there, 
John ;  we  changed  that.  The  main  suppote  o'  the 
schools  is  left  to  the  counties  an'  townships." 

"That's  stupid,  all  round,"  promptly  spoke  the 
Briton. 

"  I  thought,"  exclaimed  John,  resentfully,  "  we'd 
changed  our  State  constitution  so's  to  forbid  the  levy  of 
any  school  tax  by  a  county  or  township  except  on 
special  permission  of  the  legislature." 

"So  you  have,"  laughed  the  General. 

"  The  devil !  "  exclaimed  the  Englishman. 

"  O,  we  had  to  do  that,"  interposed  Proudfit  again, 
and  Gamble  testified, 

"  You  see,  it's  the  property-holder's  only  protection."    L 

"Then  Heaven  help  his  children's  children,"  observed 
the  traveler.  John  showed  open  disgust,  but  the  Gen 
eral  touched  him  and  said,  "  Go  on,  Shotwell." 

"  Well,  seh,  we  didn't  like  the  missiona'y's  proposi- 


1 54  JOHN  MA  R  CII,  SO  U  T1IERNER 

tion.  We  consid'ed  it  fan  bcttcli  to  transfeh  ovcli  that 
three  thousan'  a  year  to  Rosemont,  entire  ;  which  we  did 
so.  Pub — ?  No,  seh,  Rosemont's  not  public,  but  it 
really  rep'esents  ow  people,  which,  o'  co'se,  the  otheh 
don't." 

"Public  funds  to  a  private  concern,"  quietly  com 
mented  the  Englishman — "  that's  a  steal."  John 
March's  blood  began  to  boil. 

"  O,"  cried  Shotwell — "  ow  people — who  pay  the 
taxes — infinitely  rather  Rosemont  should  have  it." 

"  I  see,"  responded  the  Briton,  in  such  a  tone  that 
John  itched  to  kick  him. 

"  Well,  seh,"  persisted  the  narrator,  "  you  should  'a' 
f heard  Leggett  howl  faw  a  divvy!"  All  smiled. 
"  Worst  of  it  was — what  ?  Wha'd  you  say,  Gen'l  ?  " 

"  He  had  the  constitution  of  the  State  to  back  him." 

"  lie  hasn't  now !  Well,  seh,  the  bill  faw  this  ve'y 
raailroad  was  in  the  house.  Leggctt  swo'  it  shouldn't 
even  so  much  as  go  to  the  govc'neh  to  sign  aw  to  veto 
till  that  fund — seh?  annual,  yes,  seh — was  divided  at 
least  evm,  betwi-x  Rosemont  an'  the  Suez  high  school." 

"  Hear,  hear  !  " 

"Well,  seh" — the  Captain  became  blithe— "  Jeff- 
Jack  sent  faw  him — you  remembeh  that  night,  Presi- 
dent  Gamble — this  was  the  second  bill — ayfteh  the  first 
lied  been  vetoed — an'  said,  s'c,  '  Leggctt,  if  I  give  you 
my  own  word  that  you'll  get  yo'  fifteen  hund'ed  a  year 
as  soon  as  this  new  bill  passes,  will  you  vote  faw  it  ? ' — 
'  Yass,  seh,'  says  Leggett — an'  he  did  !  " 

Proudfit  laughed  with  manly  glee,  and  offered  no 
other  interruption. 


JOHN  INSULTS  THE  BRITISH  FLAG       155 

"  Well,  seh,  then  it  come  Jeff-Jack's  turn  to  keep  his 
word  the  best  he  could." 

"  Which  he's  done/'  said  Gamble. 

"  Yes,  Jeff- Jack  got  still  anotheh  bill  brought  in  an' 
paasscd.  It  give  the  three  thousan'  to  Rosemont 
entieh,  an'  authorized  the  three  counties  to  raise  the 
fifteen  hund'ed  a  year  by  county  tax."  The  Captain 
laughed. 

"  Silly  trick,"  said  the  Englishman,  grimly. 

"  Why,  the  dahkeys  got  they  fifteen  hund'ed  !  " 

"  Don't  they  claim  twenty-two  fifty?  " 

"  Well,  they  jess  betteh  not !  " 

"  Rascally  trick  !  " 

"  Sir,"  said  John,  "  Mr.  Ravenel  is  my  personal  friend. 
If  you  make  another  such  comment  on  his  actions  I  shall 
treat  it  as  if  made  on  mine." 

"  Come,  Come  !  "  exclaimed  Gamble,  commandingly  ; 
"  we  can't  have " 

"  You'll  have  whatever  I  give,  sir ! " 

Three  or  four  men  half  rose,  smiling  excitedly,  but 
sank  down  again. 

"  You  think,  sir,"  insisted  John,  to  the  Englishman's 
calmly  averted  face,  "  that  being  in  a  free  country — 
he  dashed  off  Shotwell's  remonstrant  hand. 

"  Tain't  a  free  country  at  all,"  said  the  Briton  to  the 
outer  landscape.  "  There's  hardly  a  corner  in  Europe 
but's  freer." 

"  Ireland,  for  instance,"  sneered  John. 

"  Ireland  be  damned,"  responded  the  foreigner,  still 
still  looking  out  the  window.  "  Go  tell  your  nurse  to 
give  you  some  bread  and  butter." 


156  JOHN  MA R CII,  SOU THERNER 

John  leaped  and  swept  the  air  with  his  open  palm. 
Gamble's  clutch  half  arrested  it  in  front,  Shotwell  hin 
dered  it  from  behind,  neither  quite  stopped  it. 

"  Did  he  slap  him  ? "  eagerly  asked  a  dozen  men 
standing  on  the  seats. 

"  He  barely  touched  him,"  was  the  disappointed  reply 
of  one. 

"  Thank  the  Lawd  faw  evm  that  little ! "  responded 
another. 

Shotwell  pulled  March  away,  Halliday  following. 
Near  the  rear  door 

"  Johnnie,"  began  the  General,  with  an  air  of  com 
plete  digression,  but  at  the  woebegone  look  that  came 
into  the  young  man's  face,  the  old  soldier  burst  into  a 
laugh.  John  whisked  around  to  the  door  and  stood 
looking  out,  though  seeing  nothing,  bitter  in  the  thought 
that  not  for  the  Englishman's  own  sake,  but  for  the 
sake  of  the  British  capital  coveted  by  Suez,  a  gentle- 
f"  man  and  a  Kosemonter  was  forbidden  to  pay  him  the 
price  of  his  insolence. 

"  I'd  like  to  pass,"  presently  said  someone  behind  him. 
He  started,  and  Gamble  went  by. 

"  May  I  detain  you  a  moment,  sir? "  said  John. 

The  president  frowned.     "  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  In  our  passage  of  words  just  now — I  was  wrong." 

"  Yes,  you  were.        What  of  it  ? " 

"  I  regret  it." 

"  I  can't  use  your  regrets,"  said  the  railroad  man. 
He  moved  to  go.  "  If  you  want  to  see  me  about 

John  smiled.  "No,  sir,  I'd  rather  never  set  eyes  on 
you  again." 


JOHN  INSULTS  THE  BRITISH  FLAG        157 

As  the  Westerner's  fat  back  passed  into  the  farther 
coach  his  response  came 

"  What  you  want  ain't  manners,  it's  gumption."  \ 
The  door  slammed  for  emphasis. 

March  presently  followed,  full  of  shame  and  indigna 
tion  and  those  unutterable  wailings  with  which  youth, 
so  often,  has  to  be  born  again  into  manhood.  Gamble 
had  rejoined  the  Garnet  group.  John  bowed  affably  to 
all,  smiled  to  Fannie  and  passed.  Garnet  still  sat  with 
Mrs.  Proudfit  behind  the  others,  and  John,  as  he  went 
by,  was,  for  some  cause  supplied  by  this  pair,  startled, 
angered  anew,  and  for  the  time  being  benumbed  by  con 
flicting  emotions.  He  found  his  mother  still  talking 
joyously  with  the  Graveses,  who  were  unfamiliar  with 
the  graceful  art  of  getting  away.  He  found  a  seat 
in  front  of  them,  and  sat  stiff  beside  a  man  who 
drowsed. 

"  I'm  a  hopeless  fool,"  he  thought,  "  a  fool  in  anger,  a 
fool  in  love.  A  fool  even  in  the  eyes  of  that  idiot  of  a 
railroad  president  in  yonder  smirking  around  Fannie. 

"  They'll  laugh  at  me  together,  I  suppose.  O,  Fannie, 
why  can't  I  give  you  up?  I  know  you're  a  flirt.  Jeff- 
Jack  knows  it.  I  solemnly  believe  that's  why  he 
doesn't  ask  you  to  marry  him ! 

"  Yes,  they're  probably  all  laughing  at  me  by  now. 
O,  was  ever  mortal  man  so  uttterly  alone  !  And  these 
people  think  what  makes  me  so  is  this  silly  temper. 
They  say  it !  Mother  assures  me  they  say  it !  I  be 
lieve  I  could  colonize  our  lands  if  it  waVt  for  that. 
O,  I  will  colonize  them !  I'll  do  it  all  alone.  If  that 
jackanapes  could  open  this  road  I  can  open  our  lands. 


158  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

Whatever  lie  used  I  can  use ;  whatever  he  did  I  can 
do !  " 

"  Sir  ?  "  said  the  neighbor  at  his  elbow,  "  O  excu — I 
thought  you  spoke." 

"  Hem  !     No,  I  was  merely  clearing  my  throat. 

"  I  can  do  it.  I'll  do  it  alone.  She  shall  see  me  do 
it — they  shall  all  see.  I'll  do  it  alone — all  alone " 

He  caught  the  steel-shod  rhythm  of  the  train  and 
said  over  and  over  with  ever  bigger  and  more  bitter 
resolution,  "  I'll  do  it  alone — I'll  do  it  alone !  " 

Then  he  remembered  Garnet. 


XXVII. 

TO    SUSIE — FROM    TUSSIE 

ON  the  return  trip  Garnet  sat  on  the  arm  of  almost 
every  seat  except  Fannie's. 

"  No,  sir ;  no,  keep  your  seat !  "  He  wouldn't  let 
anybody  be  "  disfurnished  "  for  him  !  Proudfit  had  got 
the  place  next  his  wife  and  thought  best  to  keep  it. 

"  Mr.  Fair,"  said  Garnet,  "  I'd  like  you  to  notice  how 
all  this  region  wras  made  in  ages  past.  You  see  how 
the  rocks  have  been  broken  and  tossed," — etc. 

"Mr.  Fair" — the  same  speaker — "I  wish  you'd 
change  your  mind  and  stay  a  week  with  us.  Come, 
spend  it  at  Rosemont.  It's  vacation,  you  know,  and 
Barb  and  I  shan't  have  a  thing  to  do  but  give  you  a 
good  time ;  shall  we,  Barb  ?  " 


TO  SUSIE— FROM  FUSSIR  159 

"  It  will  give  us  a  good  time,"  said  Barb.  Her  slow, 
cadenced  voice,  steady  eye,  and  unchallenging  smile 
charmed  the  young  Northerner.  He  had  talked  about 
her  to  Fannie  at  luncheon  and  pronounced  her  "un 
usual." 

"  Why,  really  " — he  began,  looked  up  at  Garnet  and 
back  again  to  Barbara.  Garnet  bent  over  him  confi 
dentially. 

"Just  between  us  I'd  like  to  advise  with  you  about 
something  I've  never  mentioned  to  a  soul.  That  is 
about  sending  Barb  to  some  place  North  to  sort  o'  round 
out  her  education  and  character  in  a  way  that — it's  no 
use  denying  it,  though  it  would  never  do  for  me  to  say 
so — a  way  that's  just  impossible  in  Dixie,  sir." 

The  young  man  remembered  Barbara's  mother  and 
was  silent. 

"  Well,  Barb,  Mr.  Fair  will  go  home  with  us  for  a  day 
or  two,  anyhow,"  Garnet  was  presently  authorized  to 
say.  "  I  must  go  into  the  next  car  a  moment " 

John  March,  meditating  on  this  very  speaker  with 
growing  anger,  saw  him  approach.  Garnet  entered, 
beaming. 

" Howdy,  John,  my  son;  I  couldn't  let  you  and  Sister 
March " 

March  had  stepped  before  his  mother:  He  spoke  in  a 
deep  murmur. 

"  I'm  not  your  son,  sir.    My  mother's  not  your  sister." 

"Why,  what  in  thun — why,  John,  I  don't  know 
whether  to  be  angry  or  to  laugh." 

"  Don't  you  dare  to  do  either.  Go  back  to  that  other 
man's " 


160  JOHN  MARCH,   SOUTHERNER 

"Speak  more  softly  for  heaven's  sake,  Mr.  March, 
and  don't  look  so,  or  you'll  do  me  a  wrong  that  may 
cost  us  both  our  lives !  " 

"  Cheap  enough,"  said  the  youth,  with  a  smile. 

"You've  made  a  ridiculous  mistake,  John.  Before 
God  I'm  as  innocent  of  any ' 

"  Before  God,  Major  Garnet,  you  lie.  If  you  deny  it 
again  I'll  accuse  you  publicly.  Go  back  and  fondle  the 
hand  of  that  other  man's  wife ;  but  don't  ever  speak  to 
my  mother  again.  If  you  do,  I — I'll  shoot  you  on  sight." 

"  I'll  call  you  to  account  for  this,  sir,"  said  Garnet, 
moving  to  go. 

"  You're  lying  again,"  was  John's  bland  reply,  and 
he  turned  to  his  seat. 

"  Why,  John,"  came  the  mother's  sweet  complaint, 
"  I  wanted  to  see  Brother  Garnet." 

"  Oh,  I'm  sorry,"  said  the  complaisant  son. 

Garnet  paused  on  the  coach's  platform  to  get  rid  of 
his  tremors.  "  He'll  not  tell,"  he  said  aloud,  the  uproar 
of  wheels  drowning  his  voice.  "  He's  too  good  a  Rose- 
inonter  to  tattle.  At  first  I  thought  he'd  got  on  the 
same  scent  as  Cornelius. 

"  Thank  God,  that's  one  thing  there's  no  woman  in, 
anyhow.  O  me,  O  me !  If  that  tipsy  nigger  would 
only  fall  off  this  train  and  break  his  neck ! 

"  And  now  here's  this  calf  to  live  in  daily  dread  of.  O 
dear,  O  clear,  I  ought  to  a-had  more  sense.  It's  all  her 
fault ;  she's  pure  brass.  They  call  youth  the  time  of 
temptation — Good  Lord !  Why  youth's  armored  from 
head  to  heel  in  its  invincible  ignorance.  O  me !  Well 
—I'll  pay  him  for  it  if  it  takes  me  ten  years." 


TO  SUSIE— FROM  PUSSIE  161 

John's  complacency  had  faded  with  the  white  heat  of 
his  anger,  and  he  sat  chafing  in  spirit  while  his  elbow 
neighbor  slept  in  the  shape  of  an  X.  Across  the  ear  he 
heard  Parson  Tombs  explaining  to  the  Graves  brethren 
and  Sister  March  that  Satan — though  sometimes  cor 
poreal — and  in  that  case  he  might  be  either  unicorporeal 
or  multicorporeal — and  at  other  times  incorporeal — as 
he  might  choose  and  providence  permit — and,  mark  yon, 
he  might  be  both  at  once  on  occasion — was  by  no  means 
omnipresent,  but  only  ubiquitous. 

Lazarus  supposed  a  case :  "  He  might  be  in  both 
these  cahs  at  once  an'  yet  not  on  the  platfawm  between 
'em." 

"It's  mo'  than  likely!"  said  the  aged  pastor,  no  one 
meaning  anything  sly.  Yet  to  some  people  a  parson's 
smiling  mention  of  the  devil  is  always  a  good  joke,  and 
the  Graves  laughed,  as  we  may  say.  Not  so,  Sister 
March ;  she  never  laughed  at  the  prince  of  darkness,  nor 
took  his  name  in  vain.  She  spoke,  now,  of  his  "darts." 
"  No,  Sister  March,  I  reckon  his  darts,  fifty  times  to 
one,  ah  turned  aside  fum  us  by  the  providence  that's 
round  us,  not  by  the  po'  little  patchin'  o'  grace  that's  in 
us." 

John's  heart  jumped.  Garnet  looked  in  and  beckoned 
him  out.  He  went. 

"  John  " — the  voice  was  tearful — "  I  offer  my  hand 
in  penitent  gratitude."  John  took  it.  "Yes,  my  dear 
boy,  my  feet  had  well-nigh  slipped." 

"  I  oughtn't  to  have  spoken  as  I  did,  Major  Garnet." 

"  It  was  the  word  of  the  Lord,  John.     It  saved  me 

and  my  spotless  name !     The  mistake  had  just  begun, 


162  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

in  mere  play,  but  it  might  have  grown  into  actual  sin 
— of  impulse,  I  mean,  of  course — not  of  action  ;  my  life 
long  correctness  of " 

"  Oh,  I'm  sure  of  that  sir !     I  only  wish  / " 

"  God  bless  you !  I've  a  good  notion  to  tell  your 
mother  this  whole  thing,  John,  just  to  make  her  still 
prouder  of  you."  He  squeezed  the  young  man's  hand. 
"But  I  reckon  for  others'  sakes  we'd  better  not  breathe 
it." 

"O,  I  think  so,  sir!     I  promise " 

"  You  needn't  have  promised,  John.  Your  think-so 
was  promise  enough.  And  a  mighty  good  thing  for  us 
all  it's  so.  For,  John  March,  you're  the  hope  of 
Suez ! 

"  You've  got  the  key  of  all  our  fates  in  your  pocket, 

John — you  and  your  mother  now,  and  you.  when  you 

\  come  into  full  charge  of  the  estate  next  year.     That's 

'  why  Jeff-Jack's  always  been  so  willing  to  help  me  to 

help  you  on.     But  never  mind  that,  only — beware  of 

new  friends.     When  they  come  fawning  on  you  with 

offers  to  help  you  develop  the  resources  of  Widewood, 

you  tell  'em " 

"  That  I'm  going  to  develop  them  myself,  alone." 

"  N-n-no — not  quite  that.  O,  you  couldn't !  You've 
no  idea  what  a — why,  I  couldn't  do  it  with  you,  without 
Jeff- Jack's  help,  nor  he  without  mine!  Why,  just  see 
wThat  a  failure  the  effort  to  build  this  road  was,  until " 
— the  locomotive  bellowed. 

"  Half-an-hour  late,  and  slowing  up  again ! "  ex 
claimed  John.  He  knew  the  parson's  wife  was  pressing 
his  mother  to  spend  the  night  with  them,  and  he  was 


IN  FORM  A  TION  FOR  SALE  163 

afraid  of  having  his  soul  asked  after.  "Why  do  we 
stop  here,  hardly  a  mile  from  town  ? " 

"  It's  to  let  my  folks  off.  They're  going  to  walk  over 
to  the  pike  while  I  go  on  for  the  carriage  and  drive  out ; 
they  and  Jeff- Jack  and  the  Hallidays." 

The  train  stopped  where  a  beautiful  lane  crossed  the 
track  between  two  fenced  fields.  Fair  and  Barbara 
alighted  and  stood  on  a  flowery  bank  with  the  sun  glow 
ing  in  some  distant  tree-tops  behind  them.  Fannie 
leaned  from  the  train,  took  both  Jeff- Jack's  uplifted 
hands  and  fluttered  down  upon  rebounding  tiptoes ;  the 
bell  sounded,  the  scene  changed,  and  John  murmured 
to  himself  in  heavy  agony, 

"  He's  going  to  ask  her !  0,  Fannie,  Fannie,  if  you'd 
only  refuse  to  say  yes,  and  give  me  three  years  to  show 
what  I  can  do  !  But  he's  going  to  ask  her  before  that 
sun  goes  down,  and  what's  she  going  to  say  ?  " 


XXVIII. 

INFORMATION    FOR    SALE 

"  HOPE  of  Suez  !  "  Garnet  felt  he  had  spoken  just 
these  three  words  too  many.  "Overtalked  myself 
again,"  he  said  to  himself  while  chatting  with  others  ;  "  a 
liar  always  does.  But  he  shall  pay  for  this.  Ah  me  !  " 

He  was  right.  The  young  man  would  have  sucked 
down  all  his  flattery  but  for  those  three  words.  Yet  on 
one  side  they  were  true,  and  March  guiltily  felt  them  so 


164  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

as,  looking  at  his  mother,  lie  thought  again  of  that  deep 
store  of  the  earth's  largess  lying  under  their  unfruitful 
custody.  Suez  and  her  three  counties  would  have 
jeered  the  gaudy  name  from  Lover's  Leap  to  Liberty- 
ville  though  had  they  guessed  better  the  meaning  of  the 
change  into  which  a  world's  progress  was  irresistibly 
pushing  them,  whoever  owned  Widewood  must  have 
stood  for  some  of  their  largest  wishes  and  hopes,  and 
they  would  have  ceased  to  deride  the  blessed  mutation 
and  to  hobble  it  with  that  root  of  so  many  world-wide 
evils — the  calling  still  private  what  the  common  need 
has  made  public.  The  ghost  of  this  thought  flitted  in 
John's  mind,  but  would  not  be  grasped  or  beckoned  to 
the  light. 

"  I  wish  I  could  think,"  he  sighed,  but  he  could  only 
think  of  Fannie.  The  train  stopped.  The  excursion 
ists  swarmed  forth.  The  cannon  belched  out  its  thun 
derous  good-byes,  and  John  went  for  his  horse  and 
buggy,  promising  to  give  word  for  Garnet's  equipage  to 
be  sent  to  him. 

"  I  must  mind  Johanna  and  her  plunder,"  said  the 
Major;  "but  I'll  look  after  your  mother,  too."  And 
he  did  so,  though  he  found  time  to  part  fondly  with  the 
Proudfits. 

"  He  won't  do,"  thought  John,  as  he  glanced  back 
from  a  rise  of  ground.  "  Fannie's  right.  And  she's 
right  about  me,  too ;  the  only  way  to  get  her  is  to  keep 
away  till  I've  shown  myself  fit  for  her ;  that's  what  she 
means;  of  course  she  can't  say  so;  but  I'm  satisfied 
that's  what  she  means !  " 

He  passed  two  drunken  men.     Here  in  town  at  the 


IN  FORM  A  TION  FOR  SALE  165 

end  of  Suez's  wedding  so  many  had  toasted  it  so  often, 
it  was  as  if  Susie's  own  eyes  were  blood-shot  and  her 
steps  uncertain.  "It's  my  wedding,  too,"  he  solilo 
quized.  "  This  Widewood  business  and  I  are  married 
this  day  ;  it  alone,  to  me  alone,  till  it's  finished.  Gar 
net  shall  see  whether — humph  ! — Jake,  my  horse  and 
buggy !  "  And  soon  he  was  rattling  back  down  the 
stony  slopes  toward  his  mother. 

"  Hope  of  Suez  !  "  he  grimly  laughed.  "  We'll  be  its 
despair  if  we  don't  get  something  done.  And  I've  got 
to  do  it  alone.  Why  shouldn't  I?  Yes,  it's  true, 
times  have  changed  ;  and  yet  if  this  was  ever  rightly  a 
private  matter  in  my  father's  hands,  I  can't  see  why  it 
has  or  why  it  should  become  a  public  matter  in 
mine ! " 

He  said  this  to  himself  the  more  emphatically  be 
cause  he  felt,  somehow,  very  uncertain  about  it.  He 
wished  his  problem  was  as  simple  as  a  railroad  question. 
A  railroad  can  ask  for  public  aid ;  but  fancy  him  ask 
ing  public  aid  to  open  and  settle  up  his  private  lands ! 
He  could  almost  hear  Susie's  horse-laugh  in  reply. 
Why  should  she  not  laugh?  He  recalled  with  what 
sweet  uuboastful  tone  his  father  had  always  condemned 
every  scheme  and  symptom  of  riding  on  public  shoul 
ders  into  private  fortune.  In  the  dear  old  Dixie  there 
had  been  virtually  no  public,  and  every  gentleman  was 
by  choice  his  own  and  only  public  aid,  no  matter  what 
—"Look  out!" 

He  hauled  up  his  horse.  A  man  pressed  close  to  the 
side  of  the  halted  buggy,  to  avoid  a  huge  telegraph 
pole  that  came  by  quivering  between  two  timber  wheels. 


166  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

He  offered  John  a  freckled,  yellow  hand,  and  a  smile  of 
maudlin  fondness. 

"Mr.  Malich,  I  admiali  to  salute  you  ag'in,  seh. 
Hasn't  we  had  a  glo'ious  day  ?  It's  the  mos'  obtainable 
day  Susie  even  see,  seh !  " 

"  Well,  'pon  my  soul !  "  said  John,  ignoring  the 
proffered  hand.  "  If  I'd  seen  who  it  was,  I'd  'a'  driven 
straight  over  you."  Both  laughed.  "Cornelius,  did 
you  see  my  mother  waiting  for  me  down  by  the 
tracks  ?  " 

"I  did,  seh.  Thah  she  a-set'n'  on  a  pile  o'  ceda'- 
tree  poles,  lookin'  like  the  las'  o'  pea-time — p-he- 
he-he ! 

"  Majo'  Gyarnit  ?  O  yass,  seh,  he  thali,  too.  Thass 
how  come  I  lingud  thah,  seh,  yass,  seh,  in  espiration  o' 
Johanna.  Mr.  Mahch,  I  loves  that  creatu'  yit,  seh  ! — 
I  means  Johanna." 

"  Oh  ! — not  Major  Garnet,"  laughed  John,  gathering 
the  reins. 

Cornelius  sputtered  with  delight,  and  kept  between 
the  wheels.  "  Mr.  Mahch," — he  straightened,  solemnly, 
and  held  himself  sober — "  I  was  jess  about  to  tell  you 
what  I  jess  evise  Majo'  Gyarnit  espressin'  to  yo'  maw — 
jess  accidental  as  I  was  earwhilin'  aroun'  Johanna,  you 
know." 

"  What  was  it  ?     What  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  O,  it  wan't  much,  what  he  say.  He  say,  '  Sis' 
Mahch,  you  e'zac'ly  right.  Don't  you  on  no  accounts 
paht  with  so  much's  a'  acre  o'  them  lan's  lessn " 

"  Lord  ! — the  lands — take  care  for  the  wheel." 

But    Mr.    Leggett    leaned   heavily   on   the   buggy. 


IN  FORM  A  TION  FOR  SALE  167 

"  Mr.  Malich,  I  evince  an'  repose  you  in  confidence  to 
wit :  that  long  as  you  do  like  Gyarnit  say " 

John  gave  a  stare  of  menace.  "  Major  Garnet,  if 
you  please." 

"  Yass,  seh,  o'  co'se ;  Majo'  Gyarnit.  I  say,  long  as 
you  do  like  he  say,  Widewood  stay  jess  like  it  is, 
an'  which  it  suit  him  like  grapes  suit  a  coon ! "  The 
informant's  booziness  had  returned.  One  foot  kept  slip 
ping  from  a  spoke  of  the  fore- wheel.  With  pretence  of 
perplexity  he  examined  the  wheel.  "  Mr.  Mahch,  this 
wheel  sick ;  she  mighty  sick  ;  got  to  see  blacksmiff 
befo'  she  can  eveh  see  Widewood." 

John  looked.  The  word  was  true.  He  swore.  The 
mulatto  snickered,  sagged  against  it  and  cocked  his  face 
importantly. 

"  Mr.  Mahch,  if  you  an'  me  was  on'y  in  cahoots ! 
En  we  kin  be,  seh,  we  kin — why,  hafe  o'  yo'  lan's  'u'd 
be  public  lan's  in  no  time,  an'  the  res'  'u'd  belong  to  a 
stawk  comp'ny,  an'  me'n'  you  'u'd  be  a-cuttin'  off  kew- 
ponds  an'  a-drivin'  fas'  hawses  an'  a-drinkin'  champagne 
suppuz,  an'  champagne  faw  ow  real  frien's  an'  real  pain 
faw  ow  sham  frien's,  an'  plenty  o'  both  kine — than 
goes  Majo'  Gyarnit's  kerrige  to  him."  It  passed. 

"  But,  why,  Cornelius,  should  it  suit  Major  Garnet 
for  my  lands  to  lie  idle  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Mahch,  has  you  neveh  iuspec'  the  absence  o' 
green  in  my  eye  ?  It  suit  him  faw  a  reason  known  on'y 
to  yo's  truly,  yit  which  the  said  yo's  truly  would  accede 
to  transfawm  to  you,  seh  ;  yass,  seh  ;  in  considerations 
o'  us  goin'  in  cahoots,  aw  else  a  call  loan,  an'  yit  mo' 
stric'ly  a  call-ag'in  loan,  a  sawt  o'  continial  fee,  yass, 


168  JOHN  MA  R  CII,  SO  U  T2IERNER 

sell ;  an'  the  on'y  question,  liow  much  kin  you  make 
it?" 

John  looked  into  the  upturned  face  for  some  seconds 
before  he  said,  slowly  and  pleasantly,  "  Why,  you  dirty 
dog  !  "  He  gave  the  horse  a  cut  of  the  whip.  Leggett 
smiling  and  staggering,  called  after  him,  to  the  delight 
of  all  the  street, 

"Mr.  Mahch,  thass  confidential,  you  know!  An' 
Mr.  Mahch !  Woe !  Mr.  Mahch."  John  glanced 
fiercely  back — "  You  betteh  'zamine  that  hme  wheel ! 
caze  it  jess  now  pa- ass  oveh  my  foot !  " 


XXIX. 

RAVENEL    ASKS 

THE  Garnet  carriage,  Johanna  on  the  back  seat, 
came  smartly  up  through  the  town,  past  Parson  Tombs's, 
the  Halliday  cottage,  and  silent  Montrose  Academy, 
and  was  soon  parted  from  the  Marches'  buggy,  which 
followed  with  slower  dignity  and  a  growing  limp. 

"  Well,  Johanna,"  said  Garnet,  driving,  "  had  a  good 
time  ?  " 

"  Yass,  seh." 

"  What's  made  Miss  Barb  so  quiet  all  day ;  doesn't 
she  like  our  friend  ?  " 

The  answer  was  a  bashful  drawl — "  I  reckon  she  like 
him  tol'able,  seh." 


RAVENEL  ASKS  169 

"If  you  think  Miss  Barb  would  be  pleased  you  can 
change  to  this  seat  beside  me,  Johanna."  The  master 
drew  rein  and  she  made  the  change.  He  spoke  again. 
"You  saw  me,  just  now,  talking  with  Cornelius,  didn't 
you  ? " 

"  Yass,  seh." 

"  His  wife's  dead,  at  last." 

No  answer. 

"  Johanna,"  he  turned  a  playful  eye,  "  what  makes 
you  so  hard  on  Cornelius !  " 

She  replied  with  a  white  glance  of  alarm  and  turned 
away.  He  would  have  pressed  the  subject  but  she  mur 
mured, 

"  Dah  Miss  Barb." 

Barbara  sat  on  a  bare  ledge  of  rock  above  the  road 
side,  platting  clovers.  Fair  stood  close  below,  watch 
ing  her  fingers.  She  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"  What  did  keep  you  so  ? "  She  moved  to  where 
Fair  had  stopped  to  hand  her  down,  but  laughed, 
turned  away,  waved  good-by  to  Fannie  and  Raven  el  out 
in  a  field  full  of  flowers  and  western  sunlight,  and  ran 
around  by  an  easier  descent  to  the  carriage.  Fair 
helped  her  in. 

"  Homeward  bound,"  she  said,  and  they  spun  away. 
As  they  turned  a  bend  in  the  pike  she  glanced  back 
with  a  carefully  careless  air,  but  saw  only  their  own 
dust. 

John,  driving  beside  his  mother,  with  eyes  on  the  in 
firm  wheel,  was  very  silent,  and  she  was  very  limp. 
The  buggy  top  was  up  for  privacy.  By  and  by  he 


170  JOHN  MA  R  CH,  SO  U  THERNER 

heard  a  half-spoken  sound  at  his  side,  and  turning  saw 
her  eyes  full  of  tears. 

"O  thunder!"  he  thought,  but  only  said,  "Why, 
mother,  what's  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Ah !  my  son,  that's  what  I  wonder.  Why  have 
you  shunned  me  all  day  ?  Am  I " 

"  There  are  the  Tombses  waiting  at  their  gate,"  inter 
rupted  the  son.  The  aged  pair  had  hurried  away  from 
the  train  on  foot  to  have  their  house  open  for  Sister 
March. 

"  Yes,"  said  Daphne,  sweetly  yielding  herself  to  their 
charge,  "  John's  fierce  driving  has  damaged  a  wheel, 
and  we  wont " 

"Go  home  till  morning,"  said  the  delighted  pastor 
with  a  tickled  laugh  that  drew  from  his  wife  a  glance 
of  fond  disapproval. 

John  drove  alone  to  a  blacksmith  shop  and  left  his 
buggy  there  and  his  horse  at  a  stable.  For  the  black 
smith  lay  across  his  doorsill  "  sick."  He  had  been 
mending  rigs  and  shoeing  critters  since  dawn,  and  had 
drunk  from  a  jug  something  he  had  thought  was  water 
and  found — "  it  wasn't." 

March  sauntered  oft"  lazily  to  a  corner  where  the  lane 
led  westward  like  the  pike,  turned  into  it  and  ran  at 
full  speed. 

With  a  warm  face  he  came  again  into  the  main 
avenue  at  a  point  nearly  opposite  the  llalliday's  cottage 
gate.  General  Halliday  and  the  Englishman  were  just 
going  through  it. 

John  turned  toward  the  sun-setting  at  a  dignified 
walk.  "I'm  a  fool  to  conic  out  here,"  he  thought. 


RAVENEL  ASKS  171 

"  But  I  must  see  at  once  what  Jeff-Jack  thinks  of  my 
plan.  Will  he  tell  me  the  truth,  or  will  he  trick  me  as 
they  say  he  did  Cornelius?  O  I  must  ask  him,  too,  if 
he  did  that !  I  can't  help  it  if  he  is  with  her  ;  I  must 
see  him.  I  don't  want  to  see  her ;  at  least  that's  not 
what  I'm  out  here  for.  I'm  done  with  her — for  a 
while  ;  Heaven  bless  her ! — hut  I  must  see  him,  so's  to 
know  what  to  propose  to  mother." 

The  day  was  dying  in  exquisite  beauty.  Long  bands 
of  pale  green  light  widened  up  from  the  west.  Along 
the  hither  slope  of  a  ridge  someone  was  burning  off  his 
sedge-grass.  The  slender  red  lines  of  fire,  beautiful 
after  passion's  sort,  but  dimming  the  field's  fine  gold, 
were  just  reaching  the  crest  to  die  by  a  roadside.  The 
objects  of  his  search  were  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

A  short  way  off,  on  the  left,  lay  a  dense  line  of  young 
cedars  and  pines,  nearly  parallel  with  the  turnpike.  A 
footpath,  much  haunted  in  term- time  by  Montrose  girls, 
and  leading  ultimately  to  the  rear  of  the  Academy 
grounds,  lay  in  the  clover-field  beyond  this  thicket. 
John  mounted  a  fence  and  gazed  far  and  near.  Oppo 
site  him  in  the  narrow  belt  of  evergreens  was  a  scarcely 
noticeable  opening,  so  deeply  curved  that  one  would  get 
almost  through  it  before  the  view  opened  on  the  oppo 
site  side.  He  leaped  into  the  field,  ran  to  this  gap,  burst 
into  the  open  beyond,  and  stopped,  hat  in  hand — 
speechless.  His  quest  was  ended. 

Not  ten  steps  away  stood  two  lovers  who  had  just 
said  that  fearfully  sweet  "  mine  "  and  "  thine "  that 
keeps  the  world  a-turning.  Ravenel's  right  arm  was 
curved  over  Fannie's  shoulder  and  about  her  waist.  His 


172  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

left  hand  smoothed  the  hair  from  her  uplifted  brow,  and 
his  kiss  was  just  lighting  upon  it. 

The  blood  leaped  to  his  face,  but  the  next  instant  he 
sunk  his  free  hand  into  his  pocket  and  smiled.  John's 
face  was  half-anger,  half-anguish. 

"  Pleasant  evening,"  said  Ravenel. 

"  For  you,  sir."  John  bowed  austerely.  "  I  will  not 
mar  it.  My  business  can  wait."  He  gave  Fannie  a 
grief-stricken  look  and  was  hurrying  off. 

"  John  March,"  cried  Ravenel,  in  a  voice  breaking 
with  laughter,  "  come  right  back  here,  sir."  But  the 
youth  only  threw  up  an  arm  in  tragic  disdain  and 
kept  on. 

"John,"  called  a  gentler  voice,  and  he  turned. 
"  Don't  leave  us  so,"  said  Fannie.  "  You'll  make  me 
unhappy  if  you  do."  She  had  drawn  away  from  her 
lover's  arm.  She  put  out  a  hand. 

"  Come,  tell  me  I  haven't  lost  my  best  friend." 

John  ran  to  her,  caught  her  hand  in  both  his  and 
covered  it  with  kisses.  Ravenel  stood  smiling  and 
breaking  a  twig  slowly  into  bits. 

"  There,  there,  that's  extravagant,"  said  Fannie  ;  but 
she  let  the  youth  keep  her  hand  while  he  looked  into 
her  eyes  and  smiled  fondly  through  his  distress.  Then 
she  withdrew  it,  saying : 

"  There's  Mr.  Ravenel's  hand,  hold  it.  If  I  didn't 
know  how  men  hate  to  be  put  through  forms,  I'd  insist 
on  your  taking  it." 

"I  reckon  John  thinks  we  haven't  been  quite  can 
did,"  said  Ravenel. 

"I'm  not  sure  we  have,"  responded  Fannie.     "And 


RAVENEL  ASKS  173 

yet  I  do  think  we've  been  real  friends.  You  know 
John  " — she  smiled  at  her  hardihood — "  this  is  the  only 
way  it  could  ever  be,  don't  you  ? "  But  John  turned 
half  away  and  shook  his  head  bitterly.  She  spoke 
again.  "  Look  at  me,  John."  But  plainly  he  could 
not. 

"  Are  you  going  to  throw  us  overboard  ?  "  she  asked. 
There  was  a  silence ;  and  then — "  You  mustn't ;  not 
even  if  you  feel  like  it.  Don't  you  know  we  hadn't 
ever  ought  to  consult  our  feelings  till  we've  consulted 
everything  else  ?  " 

John  looked  up  with  a  start,  and  Fannie,  by  a 
grimace,  bade  him  give  his  hand  to  his  rival.  He 
turned  sharply  and  offered  it.  Ravenel  took  it  with  an 
air  of  drollery  and  John  spoke  low,  Fannie  loitering  a 
step  aside. 

"  I  offer  you  my  hand  with  this  warning — I  love  her. 
I'm  going  on  to  love  her  after  she's  yours  by  law.  I'll 
not  make  love  to  her ;  I  may  be  a  fool,  but  I'm  not  a 
hound  ;  I  love  her  too  well  to  do  that.  But  she's  bound 
to  know  it  right  along.  You'll  see  it.  Everybody'll 
know  it.  That'll  be  all  of  it,  I  swear.  But  any  man 
who  wants  to  stop  me  from  it  will  have  to  kill  me.  I 
believe  I  have  the  right,  before  God,  to  do  it ;  but  I'm 
going  to  do  it  anyhow.  I  prize  your  friendship.  If  I 
can  keep  it  while  you  know,  and  while  everybody  else 
knows,  that  I'm  simply  hanging  round  waiting  for  you 
to  die,  I'll  do  it.  If  I  can't— I  can't."  The  hands 
parted. 

"  That's  all  right,  John.  That's  what  I'd  do  in  your 
place," 


174  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

March  gazed  a  moment  in  astonishment.  Then  Fan 
nie,  still  drifting  away,  felt  Ravenel  at  her  side  and 
glanced  up  and  around. 

"  O,  you  haven't  let  him  go,  have  you  ?  Why,  I 
wanted  to  give  him  this  four-leaf  clover — as  a  sort  o' 
pleasant  hint.  Don't  you  see  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  he'll  try  what  luck  there  is  in  odd  num 
bers,"  said  Ravenel,  and  they  quickened  their  homeward 
step. 

John  went  to  tea  at  the  Tombses  in  no  mood  to  do 
himself  credit  as  a  guest.  His  mother  was  still  remind 
ing  him  of  it  next  day  when  they  alighted  at  home.  "  I 
little  thought  my  son  would  give  me  so  much  trouble." 

But 'his  reply  struck  her  dumb.  "  I've  got  lots  left, 
mother,  and  will  always  have  plenty.  I  make  it  my 
self." 


XXX. 

ANOTHER  ODD  NUMBER 

FANNIE  expressed  to  Barbara  one  day  her  annoyance 
at  that  kind  of  men — without  implying  that  she  meant 
any  certain  one — who  will  never  take  no  for  an  answer. 

"  A  lover,  Barb,  if  he's  not  of  the  humble  sort,  is  the 
most  self-conceited  thing  alive.  He  can  no  more  take 
in  the  idea  that  your  objection  to  him  is  he  than  a  board 
can  draw  a  nail  into  itself.  You've  got  to  hammer 
it  in," 


ANOTHER  ODD  NUMBER  175 

"  With  a  brickbat,"  quoth  Barbara,  whose  notions  of 
carpentry  were  feminine,  and  who  did  not  care  to  dis 
cuss  the  matter.  But  John  March,  it  seemed,  would 
not  take  no  from  fate  itself. 

"  I  don't  believe  yet,"  he  mused,  as  he  rode  about  his 
small  farm,  "  that  Jeff-Jack  will  get  her.  She's  playing 
with  him.  Why  not  ?  She's  played  with  a  dozen. 
And  yet,  naturally,  somebody'll  get  her,  and  he'll  not 
be  worthy  of  her.  There's  hope  yet !  She  loves  me 
far  more  than  she  realizes  right  now.  That's  a  woman's 
way ;  they'll  go  along  loving  for  years  and  find  it  out 
by  accident — You,  Hector !  What  the  devil  are  you 
and  Israel  over  in  that  melon-patch  for  instead  of  the 
corn-field  ? 

"  I've  been  too  young  for  her.  No,  not  too  young  for 
her,  but  too  young  to  show  what  I  can  do  and  be.  She 
waited  to  see,  for  years.  The  intention  may  not  have 
been  conscious,  but  I  believe  it  was  there  !  And  then 
she  got  tired  of  waiting.  Why,  it  began  to  look  as 
though  I  would  never  do  anything  or  be  anybody! 
Great  Caesar !  You  can't  expect  a  girl  to  marry  an 
egg  in  hopes  o'  what  it'll  hatch.  O  let  me  make  haste 
and  show  what  I  am !  what  I  can — 'Evermind,  Israel, 
I  see  you.  Just  wait  till  we  get  this  crop  gathered  ;  if 
I  don't  kick  you  two  idle,  blundering,  wasting,  pilfering 
black  renters  off  this  farm — as  shore's  a  gun's  iron ! 

"  No,  she  and  Jeff-Jack'll  never  marry.  Even  if 
they  do  he'll  not  live  long.  These  political  editors,  if 
somebody  doesn't  kill  'em,  they  break  down,  all  at  once. 
Our  difference  in  age  will  count  for  less  and  less  every 
year.  She's  the  kind  that  stays  young  ;  four  years 


176       JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

from  now  I'll  look  the  older  of  the  two — I'll  work  my 
self  old  ! " 

A  vision  came  to  the  dreamer's  fancy :  Wide  wood's 
forests  filled  with  thrifty  settlers,  mines  opened,  factories 
humming  by  the  brooksides,  the  locomotive's  whistle 
piercing  the  stony  ears  of  the  Sleeping  Giant ;  Suez  full 
of  iron-ore,  coal,  and  quarried  stone,  and  Fannie  a 
widow,  or  possibly  still  unwed,  charmed  by  his  successes, 
touched  by  his  constancy,  and  realizing  at  last  the  true 
nature  of  what  she  had  all  along  felt  as  only  a' friend 
ship. 

"  That's  it !  if  I  give  men  good  reason  to  court  me, 
I'll  get  the  wroman  I  court !" — But  he  did  not,  for  many 
weeks,  give  men  any  irresistible  good  reason  to  court 
him. 

"  Ah  me !  here's  November  gone.  Talk  of  minutes 
slipping  through  the  fingers — the  months  are  as  bad  as 
the  minutes  !  Lord  !  what  a  difference  there  is  between 
planning  a  thing  and  doing  it — or  even  beginning  to 
do  it ! " 

Yet  he  did  begin.  There  is  a  season  comes,  sooner 
or  later,  to  all  of  us,  when  we  must  love  and  love  must 
nest.  It  may  fix  its  choice  irrationally  on  some  sweet 
ineligible  Fannie;  but  having  chosen,  there  it  must 
nest,  spite  of  all.  Now,  men  may  begin  life  not  thus 
moved ;  but  I  never  knew  a  man  thus  moved  who  still 
did  not  begin  life.  Love  being  kindled,  purpose  is 
generated,  and  the  wheels  in  us  begin  to  go  round. 
They  had  gone  round,  even  in  John's  father ;  but  not 
only  were  time,  place,  and  circumstance  against  the 
older  man,  but  his  love  had  nested  in  so  narrow  a  knot- 


ANOTHER  ODD  NUMBER  177 

hole  that  the  purposes  and  activities  of  his  gentle  soul 
died  in  their  prison. 

"  Yes,  that's  one  thing  I've  got  to  look  out  for,"  mused 
John  one  day,  riding  about  the  northwestern  limits  of 
his  lands  where  a  foaming  brook  kept  saying,  "  Water- 
power  ! — good  fishing  ! — good  fishing  ! — water-power !  " 
He  dismounted  and  leaned  against  his  horse  by  the 
brook's  Wide  wood  side,  we  may  say,  although  just  be 
yond  here  lay  the  odd  sixty  acres  by  which  Widewood 
exceeded  an  even  hundred  thousand.  The  stream  came 
down  out  of  a  steeply  broken  region  of  jagged  rocks, 
where  frequent  evergreens  and  russet  oaks  studded  the 
purple  gray  maze  of  trees  that  like  to  go  naked  in  winter. 
But  here  it  shallowed  widely  and  slipped  over  a  long 
surface  of  unbroken  bed-rock.  On  its  far  side  a  spring 
gushed  from  a  rocky  cleft,  leapt  down  some  natural  steps, 
ran  a  few  yards,  and  slid  into  the  brook.  Behind  it  a 
red  sun  shone  through  the  leafless  tree-tops.  The  still 
air  hinted  of  frost. 

Suddenly  his  horse  listened.  In  a  moment  he  heard 
voices,  and  by  an  obscure  road  up  and  across  the  brook 
two  riders  came  briskly  to  the  water's  edge,  splashed  into 
the  smooth  shallow  and  let  their  horses  drink.  They 
were  a  man  and  a  maid,  and  the  maid  was  Barbara 
Garnet.  She  was  speaking. 

"  We  can't  get  so  far  out  of  the  way  if  we  can  keep 
this  " — she  saw  John  March  rise  into  his  saddle,  caught 
a  breath,  and  then  cried  : 

"  Why,  it's  Mr.  March.  Mr.  March,  we've  missed  our 
road  !  "  Her  laugh  was  anxious.  "  In  fact,  we're  lost. 
Oh  !  Mr.  March,  Mr.  Fair."  The  young  men  shook 


178  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

hands.  Fair  noted  a  light  rifle  and  a  bunch  of  squirrels 
at  March's  saddle-bow. 

"  You've  been  busier  than  we." 

"  Mighty  poor  sign  of  industry.  I  didn't  come  out 
for  game,  but  a  man's  sure  to  be  sorry  if  he  goes  into  the 
woods  without  a  gun.  I  mean,  of  course,  Miss  Garnet, 
if  he's  alone  !  " 

Barbara  answered  with  a  smile  and  a  wicked  drawl, 
"  You've  been  enjoying  both  ad-vau-tag-es.  I  used  to 
wish  I  was  a  squirrel,  they're  so  en-er-get-ic."  She  added 
that  she  would  be  satisfied  now  to  remain  as  she  was  if 
she  could  only  get  home  safe.  She  reckoned  they  could 
find  the  road  if  Mr.  March  would  tell  them  how. 

John  smiled  seriously.  "  Better  let  me  show  you." 
He  moved  down  the  middle  of  the  stream.  "  This  used 
to  be  the  right  road,  long  time  ago.  You  know,  Mr. 
Fair  " — his  voice  rang  in  the  trees,  "  our  mountain  roads 
just  take  the  bed  of  the  nearest  creek  whenever  they  can. 
Our  people  are  not  a  very  business  people.  But  that's 
because  they've  got  the  rare  virtue  of  contentment. 
Now " 

"  I  don't  think  they're  too  contented,  Mr.  March," 
said  Barbara,  defensively.  "  Why,  Mr.  Fair,  how  much 
this  creek  and  road  are  like  ours  at  Kosemont ! " 

"  It's  the  same  creek,"  called  March. 

By  and  by  they  left  it  and  rode  abreast  through  woods. 
There  was  much  badinage,  in  which  Barbara  took  the 
aggressive,  with  frequent  hints  at  Fannie  that  gave  John 
delicious  pain  and  convinced  him  that  Miss  Garnet  was, 
after  all,  a  fine  girl.  Fair  became  so  quiet  that  John 
asked  him  two  or  three  questions. 


ANOTHER  ODD  NUMBER  179 

"  O  no !  "  laughed  Fair,  he  could  stay  but  a  day  or  two. 
He  said  he  had  come  this  time  from  "  quite  a  good  deal " 
of  a  stay  in  Texas  and  Mexico,  and  his  father  had  writ 
ten  him  that  he  was  needed  at  home.  "  Which  is  absurd, 
you  know,"  he  added  to  Barbara. 

"  Per-fect-ly,"  she  said.     But  he  would  not  skirmish. 

"  Yes, "  he  replied.  "  But  all  the  same  I  have  to  go. 
I'm  sorry." 

"  We're  sorry  at  Rosemont." 

"  I  shall  be  sorry  at  Widewood,"  echoed  March. 

"  I  regret  it  the  more,"  responded  Fair,  "  from  having 
seen  Widewood  so  much  and  yet  so  little.  Miss  Garnet 
believes  in  a  great  future  for  Widewood.  It  was  in  try 
ing  to  see  something  of  it  that  we  lost " 

But  Barbara  protested.  "  Mr.  Fair,  we  rode  hap-haz- 
ard  !  We  simply  chanced  that  way  !  What  should  I 
know,  or  care,  about  lands  ?  You're  confusing  me  with 
pop-a  !  Which  is  doub-ly  ab-surd  !  " 

"  Most  assuredly  !  "  laughed  the  young  men. 

"  You  know,  Mr.  March,  pop-a's  so  proud  of  the  Wide- 
wood  tract  that  I  believe,  positively,  he's  jealous  of  any 
one's  seeing  it  without  him  for  a  guide.  You'd  think  it 
held  the  key  of  all  our  fates." 

"  Which  is  triply  absurd  !  " 

"Superlatively  !  "  drawled  Barbara,  and  laughing  was 
easy.  They  came  out  upon  the  pike  as  March  was  say 
ing  to  Fair : 

"  I'd  like  to  show  you  my  lands ;  they're  the  key  of 
my  fate,  anyhow." 

"  They're  only  the  lock,"  said  Barbara,  musingly. 
"  The  key  is — elsewhere." 


180       JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

John  laughed.  He  thought  her  witty,  and  continued 
with  her,  though  the  rest  of  the  way  to  Rosemont  was 
short  and  plain.  Presently  she  turned  upon  the  two 
horsemen  a  pair  of  unaggressive  but  invincible  eyes,  say 
ing,  languorously, 

"  Mr.  March,  I  want  you  to  show  Widewood  to  Mr. 
Fair — to-morrow.  Pop-a's  been  talking  about  showing 
it  to  him,  but  I  want  him  to  see  it  with  just  you 
alone." 

To  Fair  there  always  seemed  a  reserve  of  merriment 
behind  Miss  Garnet's  gravity,  and  a  reserve  of  gravity 
behind  her  brightest  gayety.  This  was  one  thing  that 
had  drawn  him  back  to  Rosemont.  Her  ripples  never  hid 
her  depths,  yet  she  was  never  too  deep  to  ripple.  I  give 
his  impressions  for  what  they  may  be  worth.  He  did  not 
formulate  them  ;  he  merely  consented  to  stay  a  day  lon 
ger.  A  half-moon  was  growing  silvery  when  John  said 
good-by  at  the  gate  of  the  campus. 

"  Now,  in  the  morning,  Mr.  Fair,  I'll  meet  you  some 
where  between  here  and  the  pike.  I  wish  I  could  say 
you'd  meet  my  mother,  but  she's  in  poor  health — been 
so  ever  since  the  war." 

That  night  Garnet  lingered  in  his  wife's  room  to  ask — 
"  Do  you  think  Barb  really  missed  the  road,  or  was 
that— 

"  Yes,  they  took  the  old  creek  road  by  mistake." 
"  Has  Fair — said  anything  to  her  ?  " 

"  No ;  she  didn't  expect  or  wish  it " 

"  Well,  I  don't  see  why." 

— "  And  he's  hardly  the  sort  to  do  unexpected  things." 


MR.  FA IR '  S  IN TER ROGA  TIONS  181 

"  They've  agreed  to  ride  right  after  breakfast.  What 
d'you  reckon  that's  for?  " 

"  Not  what  you  wish.  But  still,  for  some  reason  she 
wants  you  to  leave  him  entirely  to  himself." 

College  being  in  session  breakfast  was  early. 

"  Barb,  you'll  have  to  take  care  of  Mr.  Fair  to-day,  I 
reckon.  You  might  take  my  horse,  sir.  I'll  be  too 
busy  indoors  to  use  him." 

The  girl  and  her  cavalier  took  but  a  short  gallop. 
They  had  nearly  got  back  to  the  grove  gate  when  he  ven 
tured  upon  a  personal  speech  ;  but  it  was  only  to  charge 
her  with  the  art  of  blundering  cleverly. 

She  assured  him  that  her  blunders  were  all  nature  and 
her  art  accident.  "  Whenever  I  want  to  be  witty  I  get 
into  a  hurry,  and  haste  is  the  an-ti-dote  of  wit." 

"  Miss  Garnet,"  he  thought,  as  her  eyes  rested  calmly 
in  his,  "  your  gaze  is  too  utterly  truthful." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Barbara,  "  here's  Mr.  March  now." 

Fair  wished  he  might  find  out  why  Miss  Garnet  should 
be  out-manoeuvring  her  father. 


XXXI. 

MR.    FAIR  VENTURES   SOME   INTERROGATIONS 

THE  air  was  full  of  joy  that  morning,  and  John  boy 
ishly  open  and  hearty. 

"  Fact  is,  Mr.  Fair,  I  don't  care  for  young  ladies'  com 
pany.  Half  of  them  are  frauds  and  the  rest  are  a  de- 


182  JOHN  MARCH,   SOUTHERNER 

lusion  and  a  snare-  — ha-ha-ha !  Miss  Garnet  is  new 
goods,  as  the  boys  say,  and  I'm  not  fashionable.  Even 
our  mothers  ain't  very  well  acquainted  yet ;  though  my 
mother's  always  regretted  it ;  their  tastes  differ.  My 
mother's  literary,  you  know." 

"  They  say  Miss  Garnet's  a  great  romp — among  other 
girls — and  an  unmerciful  mimic." 

"  Don't  you  rather  like  that  ?  " 

"  Who,  me  ?  Lord,  yes  I  The  finest  girl  I  know  is 
that  way — dances  Spanish  dances — alone  with  other 
girls,  of  course.  The  church  folks  raised  Cain  about  it 
once.  O  I — you  think  I  mean  Miss  Halliday — well  I 
do.  Miss  Garnet  can  tease  me  about  her  all  she  likes — 
ha,  ha !  it  doesn't  faze  me  !  Miss  Fannie's  nothing  to 
me  but  a  dear  friend — never  was !  Why,  she's  older  than 
I  am — h-though  h-you'd  never  suspect  it." 

"  Well,  yes,  I  think  I  should  have  known  it." 

"  O  go  'long !  Somebody  told  you  !  But  I  swear,  Mr. 
Fair,  I  wonder,  sir,  you're  not  more  struck  with  Miss 
Halliday.  Now,  I  go  in  for  mind  and  heart.  I  don't 
give  a  continental  for  externals  ;  and  yet — did  you  ever 
see  such  glorious  eyes  as  Fan — Miss  Halliday's  ?  Now, 
honest  Ingin  !  did  you,  erer?" 

Mr.  Fair  admitted  that  Miss  Halliday's  eyes  danced. 

"  You  say  they  do  ?  You're  right !  Hah !  they  dance 
Spanish  dances.  I've  seen  black  eyes  that  wrent  through 
you  like  a  sword ;  I've  seen  blue  eyes  that  drilled 
through  you  like  an  auger ;  and  I've  seen  gray  ones 
that  bit  through  you  like  a  cold-chisel ;  and  I've  seen — 
now,  there's  Miss  Garnet's,  that  just  sec  through  you 
without  going  through  you  at  all — O  I  don't  like  any  of 


MR.  FAIR'S  INTERROGATIONS  183 

'em !  but  Fannie  Halliday's  eyes — Miss  Fannie,  I 
should  say — they  seem  to  say,  '  Come  out  o'  that.  I'm 
not  looking  at  all,  but  I  know  you're  there ! '  O  sir ! — 
Mr.  Fair,  don't  you  hate,  sir,  to  see  such  a  creature  as 
that  get  married  to  anybody?  I  say,  to  anybody!  I 
tell  you  what  it's  like,  Mr.  Fair.  It's  like  chloroform 
ing  a  butterfly,  sir !  That's  what  it's  like  !  " 

He  meditated  and  presently  resumed — "  But,  Law' 
no  !  She's  nothing  to  me.  I've  got  too  much  to  think 
of  with  these  lands  on  my  hands.  D'you  know,  sir*  I 
really  speak  more  freely  to  you  than  if  you  belonged 
here  and  knew  me  better  ?  And  I  confess  to  you  that  a 
girl  like  F — Miss  Halliday — would  be  enough  to  keep 
me  from  ever  marrying  !  " 

"  Why,  how  is  that  ?  " 

"Why?  O  well,  because! — knowing  her,  I  couldn't 
ever  be  content  with  less,  and,  of  course,  I  couldn't  get 
her  or  make  her  happy  if  I  got  her.  Torture  for  one's 
better  than  torture  for  two.  Mind,  that's  a  long  ways 
from  saying  I  ever  did  want  her,  or  ever  will.  I'm 
happy  as  I  am — confirmed  bachelor — ha-ha-ha  !  What  I 
do  want,  Mr.  Fair,  sir,  is  to  colonize  these  lands,  and  to 
tell  you  the  truth,  sir — li — I  don't  know  how  to  do  it !  " 

"  Are  your  titles  good  ?  " 

"  Perfect." 

"  Are  the  lands  free  from  mortgage  ?  " 

"  Free  !  ha-ha !  they'd  be  free  from  mortgage,  sir,  but 
for  one  thing." 

"What's  that?" 

"  Why,  they're  mortgaged  till  you  can't  rest !  The 
mortgages  ain't  so  mortal  much,  but  they've  been  on  so 


184  jo  UN  MA  R  CH,  SO  U  THERNER 

long  we'd  almost  be  afraid  to  take  them  off.  They're 
dried  on  sir ! — grown  in  !  Why,  sir,  we've  paid  more  in 
terest  than  the  mortgages  foot  up,  sir  ! " 

"  What  were  they  made  for  ?  improvements  ?  " 

"  Impr — O  yes,  sir ;  most  of  'em  were  given  to  im 
prove  the  interior  of  our  smoke-house — sort  o'  decorate 
it  with  meat." 

"Ah,  you  wasted  your  substance  in  riotous  living!  " 

"  No,  sir,  we  were  simply  empty  in  the  same  old  ana 
tomical  vicinity  and  had  to  fill  it.  The  mortgages  wa'n't 
all  made  for  that ;  two  or  three  were  made  to  raise 
money  to  pay  the  interest  on  old  ones — interest  and 
taxes.  Mr.  Fair,  if  ever  a  saint  on  earth  lived  up  to  his 
belief  my  father  did.  He  believed  in  citizenship 
confined  to  taxpayers,  and  he'd  pay  his  taxes  owing 
for  the  pegs  in  his  shoes — he  made  his  own  shoes, 
sir." 

"  Who  hold  these  mortgages  ?  " 

"  On  paper,  Major  Garnet,  but  really  Jeff- Jack 
Ravenal.  That's  private,  sir." 

"  Yes,  very  properly,  I  see." 

"  Do  you  ?  Wha'  do  you  see  ?  Wish  I  could  see 
something.  Seems  like  I  can't." 

"  O,  I  only  see  as  you  do,  no  doubt,  that  any  success 
ful  scheme  to  improve  your  lands  will  have  to  be  in  part 
a  public  scheme,  and  be  backed  by  Mr.  RaveneFs  news 
paper,  and  he  can  do  that  better  if  he's  privately  inter 
ested  and  supposed  not  to  be  so,  can't  he  ?  " 

March  stared,  and  then  mused.  "  Well,  I'll  be — 
doggoned ! " 

"Of  course,  Mr.  March,  that  needn't  be  unfair  to  you. 


MR.  FA  IR '  S  IN  TERR  0  GA  TIONS  185 

Is  it  to  accommodate  you,  or  him,  that  Major  Garnet 
lends  his  name  ?  " 

"  0  me ! — At  least — 0  !  they're  always  accommoda 
ting  each  other." 

"  My  father  told  me  of  these  lands  before  I  came  here. 
He  thinks  that  the  fortunes  of  Suez,  and  consequently  of 
Rosemont,  in  degree,  not  to  speak " — the  speaker 
smiled — "  of  individual  fates,  is  locked  up  in  them." 

"  I  know  !  I  know  !  The  fact  grows  on  me,  sir,  every 
day  and  hour !  But,  sir,  the  lands  are  my  lawful  inheri 
tance,  and  although  I  admit  that  the  public " 

"  You  quite  misunderstand  me  !  Miss  Garnet  said — 
in  play,  I  know — that  the  key  of  this  lock  isn't  far  off,  or 
words  to  that  effect.  Was  she  not  right  ?  And  doesn't 
Mr.  Ravenel  hold  it  ?  In  fact — pardon  my  freedom — 
is  it  not  best  that  he  should  ?  " 

"  Good  heavens,  sir  !  why,  Miss  Garnet  didn't  mean — 
you  say,  does  Jeff-Jack  hold  that  key  ?  He  was  holding 
it  the  last  time  I  saw  him  !  0  yes.  Even  according  to 
your  meaning  he  thinks  he  holds  it,  and  he  thinks  he 
ought  to.  I  don't  think  he  ought  to,  and  incline  to  be 
lieve  he  won't !  Lift  your  miserable  head  !  "  he  cried  to 
his  horse,  spurred  fiercely,  and  jerked  the  curb  till  the 
animal  reared  and  plunged.  When  he  laughed  again, 
in  apology,  Fair  asked, 

"  Do  you  propose  to  organize  a  company  yourself  to 
— eh — boom  your  lands  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't— Yes,  I  reckon  I  shall.  I  reckon  I'll 
have  to.  Wha'  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  Might  not  Mr.  Ravenel  let  you  pay  off  your  mort 
gages  in  stock  ?  " 


186  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

"  I — he  might.  But  could  I  do  that  and  still  control 
the  thing  ?  For,  Mr.  Fair,  I've  got  to  control !  There's 
a  private  reason  why  I  mustn't  let  Jeff-Jack  manage 
me.  I've  got  to  show  myself  the  better  man.  He  knows 
why.  O  !  we're  good  friends.  I  can't  explain  it  to  you, 
and  you'd  never  guess  it  in  the  world !  But  there's  a 
heavy  prize  up  between  us,  and  I  believe  that  if  I  can 
show  myself  more  than  a  match  for  him  in  these  lists — 
this  land  business — I'll  stand  a  chance  for  that  prize. 
There,  sir,  I  tell  you  that  much.  It's  only  proper  that  I 
should.  I've  got  to  be  the  master." 

"  Is  your  policy,  then,  to  gain  time — to  put  the  thing 
off  while  you " 

"  Good  Lord,  no  !  I  haven't  a  day  to  spare  !  I'll  show 
you  these  lands,  Mr.  Fair,  and  then  if  you'll  accept  the 
transfer  of  these  mortgages,  I'll  begin  the  work  of  open 
ing  these  lands,  somehow,  before  the  sun  goes  down.  But 
if  I  let  Kavenel  or  Garnet  in,  I—-"  John  pondered. 

"  Haven't  you  let  them  in  already,  Mr.  March  ?  I 
don't  see  clearly  why  it  isn't  your  best  place  for  them." 

March  was  silent. 


JORDAN  187 


XXXII. 

JORDAN 

BARBARA  lay  on  a  rug  iu  her  room,  reading  before 
the  fragrant  ashes  of  a  perished  fire.  She  heard  her 
father's  angry  step,  and  his  stern  rap  on  her  door.  Be 
fore  she  could  more  than  lift  her  brow  he  entered. 

"Barb! — 0  what  sort  of  posture—  "  She  started,  and 
sat  coiled  on  the  rug. 

"Barb,  how  is  it  you're  not  with  your  mother?" 

"  Mom-a  sent  me  out,  pop-a.  She  thought  if  I'd  leave 
her  she  might  drop  asleep." 

He  smiled  contemptuously.  "  How  long  ago  was  that  ?  " 

"About  fifteen  minutes." 

"  It  was  an  hour  ago !  Barb,  you've  got  hold  of 
another  novel.  Haven't  you  learned  yet  that  you  can't 
tell  time  by  that  sort  of  watch  ?  " 

"  Is  mom-a  awake? "  asked  the  girl,  starting  from  the 
mantel-piece. 

"  Yes — stop  !  "  He  extended  his  large  hand,  and  she 
knew,  as  she  saw  its  tremor,  that  he  was  in  the  same 
kind  of  transport  in  which  he  had  flogged  Cornelius.  In 
the  same  instant  she  was  frightened  and  glad. 

"I've  headed  him  off,"  she  thought. 

"  Barb,  your  mother's  very  ill — stop !  Johanna's 
with  her.  Barb  " — his  tones  sank  and  hardened — "  why 
did  that  black  hussy  try  to  avoid  telling  me  you  were 
home  and  Fair  had  gone  off  with  that  whelp,  John 


188  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

March  ?  What  ?  Why  don't  you  speak  so  I  can  hear  ? 
What  are  you  afraid  of  ?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  we'll  disturb  mom-a.  Johanna  should 
have  told  you  plainly." 

"  Oh  !  indeed  !  I  tell  you,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  your 
mother's  presence  I'd  have  thrown  her  out  of  the  win 
dow."  An  unintentional  murmur  from  Barbara  exas 
perated  him  to  the  point  of  ecstasy.  He  paled  and 
smiled. 

"  Barb,  did  you  want  to  keep  me  from  knowing  that 
Fair  was  going  to  Widewood  ?  "  They  looked  steadily 
into  each  others'  eyes.  "  Which  of  us  is  it  you  don't 
trust,  that  Yankee,  or  your  own  father  ?  Don't — "  he 
lifted  his  palm,  but  let  it  sink  again.  "  Don't  move 
your  lips  that  way  again  ;  I  won't  endure  it.  Barbara 
Garnet,  this  is  Fannie  Halliday's  work  !  So  help  me, 
God,  I'd  rather  I'd  taken  your  little  white  coffin  in  my 
arms  eighteen  years  ago  and  laid  it  in  the  ground  than 
that  you  should  have  learned  from  that  poisonous  crea 
ture  the  effrontry  to  suspect  me  of  dishonest — Silence  ! 
You  ungrateful  brat,  if  you  were  a  son,  I'd  shake  the 
breath  out  of  you.  Have  you  ever  trusted  me  ?  Say  !  " 
—he  stepped  close  up — "  Stop  gazing  at  me  like  a  fool 
and  answer  my  question  !  Have  you  ?  " 

"  Don't  speak  so  loud." 

"  Don't  tell  me  that,  you  little  minx  ;  you  who  have 
never  half  noticed  how  sick  your  mother  is.  Barb  " — 
the  speaker's  words  came  through  his  closed  teeth — 
"  Mr.  John  March  can  distrust  me  and  leave  me  out  of 
his  precious  company  as  much  as  he  damn  pleases — if 
you  like  his  favorite  forms  of  speech — and  so  may  your 


JORDAN  189 

tomtit  Yankee.  But  you — sha'n't !  You  sha'n't  repay 
a  father's  careful  plans  with  suspicions  of  underhanded 
rascality,  you  unregenerate — see  here !  Do  those  two 
pups  know  you  didn't  want  me  to  go?  Answer 
me  ! " 

She  could  not.  Her  lips  moved  as  he  had  forbidden, 
and  she  was  still  looking  steadily  into  his  blazing  eyes, 
when,  as  if  lightning  had  struck,  she  flinched  almost  off 
her  feet,  her  brain  rang  and  roared,  her  sight  failed,  and 
she  knew  she  had  been  slapped  in  the  face. 

He  turned  his  back,  but  the  next  instant  had  wheeled 
again,  his  face  drawn  with  pain  and  alarm.  "  I  didn't 
mean  to  do  that !  Oh,  good  Lord!  it  wa'n't  I !  For 
give  me,  Barb.  Oh,  Barb,  my  child,  as  God's  my  wit 
ness,  I  didn't  do  it  of  my  own  free  will.  He  let  the 
devil  use  me.  All  my  troubles  are  coming  together ; 
your  suspicions  maddened  me." 

Her  eyes  were  again  in  his.  She  shook  her  head  and 
passed  to  her  mirror,  saying,  slowly,  "God  shall  smite 
thee,  thou  whited  wall."  She  glanced  at  the  glass,  but 
the  redness  of  its  fellow  matched  the  smitten  cheek,  and 
she  hurried  to  the  door. 

"  Barb  " — the  tone  was  a  deep  whine — she  stopped 
without  looking  back.  "  Don't  say  anything  to  your 
mother  to  startle  her.  The  slightest  shock  may  kill  her." 

Barbara  entered  the  mother's  chamber.  Johanna 
was  standing  by  a  window.  The  daughter  beamed  on 
the  maid,  and  turned  to  the  bed ;  but  consternation 
quenched  the  smile  when  she  beheld  her  mother's  face. 

"  Why,  mom- a,  sweet." 

A  thin  hand  closed   weakly  on  her  own,  and   two 


190  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

sunken  blue  eyes,  bright  with  distress,  looked  into  hers. 
"  Where  is  he  ?  "  came  a  feeble  whisper. 

"  Pop-a  ?  Oh,  he's  coming.  If  he  doesn't  come  in  a 
moment,  I'll  bring  him."  The  daughter's  glance 
rested  for  refuge  on  the  white  forehead.  "  Shall  I  go 
call  him?" 

The  pallid  lips  made  no  reply,  the  sunken  eyes  still 
lay  in  wait.  Barbara  racked  her  mind  for  disguise  of 
words,  but  found  none.  There  was  no  escape.  Even 
to  avoid  any  longer  the  waiting  eyes  would  confess  too 
much.  She  met  them  and  they  gazed  up  into  hers  in 
still  anguish.  Barbara's  answered,  with  a  sweet,  full 
serenity.  Then  without  a  word  or  motion  came  the 
silent  question, 

"  Did  he  strike  you  ?  " 

And  Barbara  answered,  audibly.     "  No." 

She  rose,  adding,  "  Let  me  go  and  bring  him."  Con 
science  rose  also  and  went  with  her.  Just  outside  the 
closed  door  she  covered  her  face  in  her  hands  and  sank 
to  the  floor,  moaning  under  her  breath, 

"  What  have  I  done  ?  What  shall  I  do  ?  Oh  God ! 
why  couldn't — why  didn't  I  lie  to  him  f  "  She  ran 
down-stairs  on  tiptoe. 

Her  father,  with  Pettigrew  at  his  side,  was  offering 
enthusiasm  to  a  Geometry  class.  "Young  gentlemen, 
a  swift,  perfect  demonstration  of  a  pure  abstract  truth 
is  as  beautiful  and  delightful  to  me — to  any  uncorrupted 
mind — as  perfect  music  to  a  perfect  ear." 

But  hearing  that  his  daughter  was  seeking  him,  he 
withdrew. 

The  two  had  half  mounted  the  stairs,  when  a  hurried 


JORDAN 

step  sounded  in  the  upper  hall,  and  Johanna  leaned 
wildly  over  the  rail,  her  eyes  streaming. 

"  Miss  Barb !  Miss  Barb !  run  here !  run !  come 
quick,  fo'  de  love  of  God  !  Oh,  de  chariots  of  Israel ! 
de  chariots  of  Israel !  De  gates  o'  glory  lif 'n  up  dey 
head  !  " 

Barbara  flew  up  the  stairs  and  into  her  mother's 
room.  Mr.  Pettigrew  stood  silent  among  the  crystalline 
beauties  of  mathematical  truth,  and  a  dozen  students 
leaped  to  their  feet  as  the  daughter's  long  wail  came 
ringing  through  the  house  mingled  with  the  cry  of 
Johanna. 

"  Too  late  !  Too  late  !  De  daughteh  o'  Zion  done 
gone  in  unbeseen  !  " 

Through  two  days  more  Fair  lingered,  quartered  at 
the  Swanee  Hotel,  and  conferred  twice  more  with  John 
March.  In  the  procession  that  moved  up  the  cedar 
avenue  of  the  old  Suez  burying-ground,  he  stepped 
beside  General  Halliday,  near  its  end.  Among  the 
headstones  of  the  Montgomeries  the  long  line  stopped 
and  sang, 

"  For  oh  !  we  stand  on  Jordan's  strand, 
Our  friends  are  passing  over." 

In  the  midst  of  the  refrain,  each  time,  there  trembled 
up  in  tearful  ecstasy,  above  the  common  wave  of  song, 
the  voices  of  Leviticus  Wisdom  and  his  wife.  But 
only  once,  after  the  last  stanza,  Johanna's  yet  clearer 
tone  answered  them  from  close  beside  black-veiled  Bar 
bara,  singing  in  vibrant  triumph, 

"  An'  jess  befo',  de  sliiny  slio' 
We  may  alraos'  disco  veh." 


192       JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

XXXIII. 

THE    OPPORTUNE    MOMENT 

COMING  from  the  grave  Fair  walked  with  March. 

"  Yes,  I  go  to-night ;  I  shall  see  my  father  within 
three  days.  He  may  think  better  of  your  ideas  than  I 
do.  Don't  you  suppose  really — "  etc.  "  You  think 
you'll  push  it  anyhow  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.     In  fact,  I've  got  to." 

After  all  others  were  gone  one  man  still  loitered  fur 
tively  in  the  cemetery.  He  came,  now,  from  an  alley 
of  arborvitres  with  that  fantastic  elasticity  of  step  which 
skilled  drunkards  learn.  He  had  in  hand  a  bunch  of 
limp  flowers  of  an  unusual  kind,  which  he  had  that  day 
ridden  all  the  way  to  Pulaski  City  to  buy.  He  stood  at 
the  new  grave's  foot,  sank  to  one  knee,  wiped  true  tears 
from  his  eyes,  pressed  apart  the  evergreens  and  chrys 
anthemums  piled  there,  and  laid  in  the  midst  his  own 
bruised  and  wilted  offering  of  lilies. 

As  he  reached  the  graveyard  gate  in  departing  his 
mood  lightened. 

"  An'  now  gen'lemen,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  is  come  to 
pa-ass  the  ve-y  nick  an'  keno  o'  time  faw  a  fresh  staht. 
Frien'  Gyarnit,  we  may  be  happy  yit." 

He  came  up  behind  Fair  and  March.  Fair  was 
speaking  of  Fannie. 

"  But  where  was  she  ?     I  didn't  see  her." 

"  Oh,  she  stayed  at  Rosemont  to  look  after  the  house." 


7Y77i   OPPORTUNE  MOMENT  193 

"  The  General  tells  me  his  daughter  is  to  be  married 
to  Mr.  Ravenel  in  March." 

John  gave  an  inward  start,  but  was  silent  for  a 
moment.  Then  lie  said,  absently, 

"  So  that's  out,  is  it  ?  "  But  a  few  steps  farther  on  he 
touched  Fair's  arm. 

"  Let's  go — slower."  His  smile  was  ashen.  "  I — h- 
I  don't  know  why  in  the  devil  I  have  these  sickish 
feelings  come  on  me  at  f-funerals."  They  stopped. 
"  Humph  !  Wlm'd'  you  reckon  can  be  the  cause  of  it — 
indigestion  ?  " 

Mr.  Fair  thought  it  very  likely,  and  March  said  it 
was  passing  off  already. 

"  Humph !  it's  ridiculous.  Come  on,  I'm  all  right 
now." 

The  man  behind  them  passed,  looked  back,  stopped 
and  returned.  "  Gen'lewe??.,  sirs,  to  you.  Mr.  Mahch, 
escuse  me  by  pyo  accident  earwhilin'  yo'  colloquial 
terms.  I  know  e'zacly  what  cause  yo'  sick  transit. 
Yass,  sch.  Thass  the  imagination.  I've  had  it, 
myseff." 

March  stopped  haughtily,  Fair  moved  out  of  hearing, 
and  Cornelius  spoke  low,  with  a  sweet  smile.  "  Yass, 
sell.  You  see  the  imagination  o'  yo'  head  is  evil. 
You  imaginin'  somepm  what  ain't  happm  yit  an'  jiss 
like  as  not  won't  happm  at  all.  But  thass  not  why 
I  seeks  to  interrup'  you  at  this  junction. 

"Mr.  Mahch,  I'm  impudize  to  espress  to  you  in 
behalfs  o'  a  vas'  colo'ed  constituency — but  speakin'  th'oo 
a  small  ban'  o'  they  magnates  with  me  as  they  sawt  o' 
janizary  chairman — that  Gen'l  Halliday  seem  to  be 


194  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

ti-iul  o'  us  an'  done  paass  his  bes'  dotage,  an'  likewise 
the  groan's  an'  debasements  on  an'  law  which  we  be 
proud  to  help  you  depopulate  yo'  lull's,  yass,  seh,  with 
all  conceivable  ligislation  thereunto." 

"What  business  is  it  of  yours  or  your  Blackland 
darkies  what  I  do  with  my  woods?" 

"  Why,  thass  jess  it !  Whass  nobody's  business  is 
ev'ybody's  business,  you  know." 

March  smiled  and  moved  toward  Fair.  "  I've  Jio 
time  to  talk  with  you  now,  Leggett." 

"Oh!  no,  sch,  I  knowed  you  wouldn't  have.  But 
bein'  the  talk'  o'  the  town  that  you  an'  this  young 
gen'leman  " — dipping  low  to  Fair — "  is  projeckin'  said 
depopulation  I  has  cawdially  engross  ow  meaju'  in 
writin'  faw  yo'  conjint  an'  confidential  consideration. 
Yass,  seh,  aw  in  default  whereof  then  to  compote  it  in 
like  manneh  to  the  nex'  rnos'  interested." 

"  And,  pray,  who  is  the  next  most  interested  in  my 
private  property  ?  " 

"  Why,  Majo'  Gyarnit,  I  reck'n — an'  Mr.  Ravencl, 
seein'  he's  the  Djuke  o'  Suez — p-he!  " 

March  let  his  hand  accept  a  soiled  document,  saying, 
"Well,  he's  not  Duke  of  me.  Just  leave  me  this.  I'll 
either  mail  it  to  you  or  see  you  again.  Good-by." 

The  title  of  the  document  as  indorsed  on  it  wras : 
"  The  Suez  and  Three  Counties  Transportation,  Immi 
gration,  Education,  Navigation,  and  Construction  Co." 


DAPHNE  AND  DINWIDDIE  195 

XXXIV. 

DAPHNE    AND    DINWIDDIE  :    A    PASTEL    IN    PROSE 


PETTIGREW  had  always  been  coldly 
iudiflerent  to  many  things  commonly  counted  chief 
matters  of  life.  One  of  these  was  religion  ;  another 
was  woman.  His  punctuality  at  church  at  the  head  of 
Rosemont's  cadets  was  so  obviously  perfunctory  as  to  be 
without  a  stain  of  hypocrisy.  Yet  he  never  vaunted 
his  scepticism,  but  only  let  it  exhale  from  him  in  inter 
rogative  insinuations  that  the  premises  and  maxims  of 
religion  were  refuted  by  the  outcome  of  the  war.  To 
woman  his  heart  was  as  hard,  cold,  and  polished  as 
celluloid.  Only  when  pressed  did  he  admit  that  he 
regarded  her  as  an  insipid  necessity^  One  has  to  have 
a  female  parent  in  order  to  get  into  this  world — no 
gentleman  admitted  without  a  lady  ;  and  when  one  goes 
out  of  it  again,  it  is  good  to  leave  children  so  as  to 
keep  the  great  unwashed  from  getting  one's  property. 
Property! — humph!  he  or  his  father,  at  least — he 
became  silent. 

He  often  saw  Mrs.  March  in  church,  yet  kept  his 
heart.  But  one  night  a  stereoptican  lecture  was  given 
in  Suez.  In  Mrs.  March's  opinion  such  things,  unlike 
the  deadly  theatre,  were  harmful  only  when  carried  to  ex 
cess.  To  keep  John  from  carrying  this  one  to  excess — 
that  is,  from  going  to  it  with  anybody  else — she  went 
with  him,  and  they  "  happened  " — I  suppose  an  agnostic 
would  say — to  sit  next  to  Dinwiddie  Pettigrcw.  John 


196  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

being  in  a  silent  mood  Daphne  and  Dinwiddie  found 
time  for  much  conversation.  The  hour  fixed  for  the 
lecture  was  half-past  seven.  Promptly  about  half-past 
eight  the  audience  began  to  arrive.  At  a  quarter  of 
nine  it  was  growing  numerous. 

"Oh!  no,"  said  General  Halliday  to  the  lecturer, 
"  don't  you  fret  about  them  going  home ;  they'll  stay 
like  the  yellow  fever " — and  punctually  somewhere 
about  nine  "  The  Great  Love  Stories  of  History  "  began 
to  be  told,  and  luminously  pictured  on  a  white  cotton 
full  moon. 

With  lights  turned  low  and  everybody  enjoined  to 
converse  only  in  softest  whispers,  the  conditions  for 
spontaneous  combustion  were  complete  in  many  bosoms, 
and  at  the  close  of  the  entertainment  Daphne  Dal- 
rymple,  her  own  asbestos  affections  warmed,  but  not 
ignited,  walked  away  with  the  celluloid  heart  of  Din 
widdie  Pettigrew  in  a  light  blaze. 


XXXV. 


AT  the  time  of  which  we  would  here  speak  the  lover 
had  made  one  call  at  Widewood,  but  had  not  met 
sufficient  encouragement  to  embolden  him  to  ask  that 
the  lovee  would  give,  oh,  give  him  back  a  heart  so 
damaged  by  fire,  as  to  be  worthless  except  to  the  thief ; 


A    WIDOW'S  ULTIMATUM  197 

though  his  manner  was  rank  with  hints  that  she  might 
keep  it  now  and  take  the  rest. 

Mrs.  March  was  altogether  too  sacred  in  her  own  eyes 
to  be  in  haste  at  such  a  juncture.  Her  truly  shrinking 
spirit  was  a  stranger  to  all  manner  of  auctioning,  but 
she  believed  in  fair  play,  and  could  not  in  conscience 
quite  forget  her  exhilarating  skirmish  with  Mr.  Ravenel 
on  the  day  of  Susie's  wedding. 

It  had  not  brought  on  a  war  of  roses.  Something 
kept  him  away  from  Widewood.  AVas  it,  she  wondered, 
the  noble  fear  that  he  might  subject  her  to  those  social 
rumors  that  are  so  often  all  the  more  annoying  because 
only  premature  ?  All,  if  he  could  but  know  how  lightly 
she  regarded  such  prattle  !  But  she  would  not  tell  him, 
even  in  impersonal  verse.  On  the  contrary,  she  con 
tributed  to  the  Presbyterian  Monthly — a  non-sectarian 
publication— those  lines — which  caught  one  glance  of 
so  many  of  her  friends  and  escaped  any  subsequent 
notice — entitled, 

"  LOVE-PROOF. 

"She  pities  much,  yet  laughs  at  Love 
For  love  of  laughter !     Fadeless  youth  " — 

But  the  simple  fact  is  that  Mr.  Ravenel's  flatteries, 
when  rare  chance  brought  him  and  the  poetess  together, 
were  without  purpose,  and  justified  in  his  liberal  mind 
by  the  right  of  every  Southern  gentleman  to  treat  as 
irresistible  any  and  every  woman  in  her  turn. — "  Got 
to  do  something  pleasant,  Miss  Fannie  ;  can't  buy  her 
poetry." 


198  JOHN  MA R CH,  SOU THERNER 

On  the  evening  when  March  received  from  Leggett 
the  draft  of  An  Act  Entitled,  etc.,  the  mother  and  son 
sat  silent  through  their  supper,  though  John  was  long 
ing  to  speak.  At  last,  as  they  were  going  into  the  front 
room  he  managed  to  say  : 

"  Well,  mother,  Fair's  gone — goes  to-night." 

He  dropped  an  arm  about  her  shoulders. 

"  Oh  ! — when  I  can  scarcely  bear  my  own  weight !  " 
She  sank  into  her  favorite  chair  and  turned  away  from 
his  regrets,  sighing, 

"  Oil,  no,  youth  and  health  never  do  think." 

The  son  sat  down  and  leaned  thoughtfully  on  the 
centre-table. 

"  That's  so !  They  don't  think;  they're  too  busy 
feeling." 

"  Ah,  John,  you  don't  feel !     I  wish  you  could." 

"  Humph  !  I  wish  I  couldn't."  Pie  smoothed  off  a 
frown  and  let  his  palm  foil  so  flat  upon  the  bare 
mahogany  that  a  woman  of  less  fortitude  than  Mrs. 
March  would  certainly  have  squeaked.  "  Mother,  dear, 
I  believe  I'll  try  to  see  how  little  I  can  feel  and  how 
much  I  can  think." 

"  Providence  permitting,  my  reckless  boy." 

"  Oil,  bless  your  dear  soul,  mother,  Providence'll  be 
only  too  glad !  yes,  I've  a  notion  to  try  thinking. 
Fact  is,  I've  begun  already.  Now,  you  love  soli 
tude " 

"Ah,  John!" 

"  Well,  at  any  rate,  you  can  think  best  when  you're 
alone." 

"O  John!" 


A    WIDOW'S  ULTIMATUM  199 

"  Well,  father  could.  I  can't.  I  need  to  rub  against 
men.  You  don't." 

"  Oh  ! — h — h— John  !  "  But  when  Mrs.  March  saw 
the  intent  was  only  figurative  she  drew  her  lips  close 
and  dropped  her  eyes. 

Her  son  reflected  a  minute  and  spoke  again.  "  Why, 
mother,  just  that  Yankee's  being  here  peeping  around 
and  asking  his  scared-to-dcath  questions  lias  pulled  ray 
wits  together  till  I  wonder  where  they've  been.  Oh,  it's 
so  !  It's  not  because  he's  a  Yankee.  It's  simply  because 
he's  in  with  the  times.  He  knows  what's  got  to  come 
and  what's  got  to  go,  and  how  to  help  them  do  it  so's 
to  make  them  count !  He  belongs — pshaw — he  belongs 
to  a  live  world.  Now,  here  in  this  sleepy  old 
Dixie " 

"  Has  it  come  to  that,  John  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  has,  and  it's  cost  a  heap  sight  more  than  it's 
come  to,  because  I  didn't  let  it  come  long  ago.  I 
wouldn't  look  plain  truth  in  the  face  for  fear  of  going 
back  on  Rosemont  and  Suez,  and  all  the  time  I've  been 
going  back  on  Widewood !  "  The  speaker  smote  the 
family  Bible  with  Leggett's  document.  His  mother 
wept. 

"Oh!  golly,"  mumbled  John. 

"  Oh  !  my  son  !  " 

"Why,  what's  the  trouble,  mother?" 

Mrs.  March  could  not  tell  him.  It  was  not  merely 
his  blasphemies.  There  seemed  to  be  more  hope  of 
sympathy  from  the  damaged  ceiling,  and  she  moaned  up 
to  it, 

"  My  son  a  Radical !  " 


200  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

He  sprang  to  his  feet.  "Mother,  take  that  insult 
back  !  For  your  own  sake,  take  it  back  !  I  hadn't  a 
thought  of  politics.  If  my  words  implied  it  they  played 
me  false !  " 

Mrs.  March  was  anguished  wonder.  "  "Why,  what 
else  could  they  mean  ?  " 

"Anything!  I  don't  know!  I  was  only  trying  to 
blurt  out  what  I've  been  thinking  out,  concerning  our 
private  interests.  For  I've  thought  out  and  found  out 
— these  last  few  days — more  things  that  can  be  done, 
and  must  be  done,  and  done  right  oft"  with  these  lands 
of  ours " 

"  O  John !     Is  that  your  swift  revenge  ?  " 

"  Why,  mother,  dear !  Revenge  for  what  ?  Who 
on?" 

"  For  nothing,  John  ;  on  widowed,  helpless  me  !  " 

"  Great  Scott !  mother,  as  I've  begged  you  fifty  times, 
I  beg  you  now  again,  just  tell  me  what  to  do  or  undo." 

"  Please  don't  mock  me,  John.  You're  the  dictator 
now,  by  the  terms  of  the  will.  They  give  you  the  legal 
rights,  and  the  legal  rights  arc  all  that  count — with 
men.  I'm  in  your  power." 

John  laughed.  "I  wish  you'd  tell  the  dictator  what 
to  do." 

"  Too  late,  my  son,  you've  taken  the  counsel  of  your 
country's  enemies."  She  rose  to  leave  the  room.  The 
son  slapped  his  thigh. 

"  Ton  my  soul,  mother,  you  must  excuse  me.  Here's 
a  letter. 

"  Has  Jeff-Jack  accepted  another  poem  ?  "  he  asked, 
as  she  read.  "  I  wish  he'd  pay  for  it." 


A    WIDOW'S  ULTIMATUM  201 

She  did  not  say,  though  the  missive  must  have  ended 
very  kindly,  for  in  spite  of  herself  she  smiled. 

"  Ah,  John !  your  vanity  is  so  large  it  can  include 
even  your  mother.  I  wish  I  had  some  of  it ;  I  might 
believe  what  my  friends  tell  me.  But  maybe  it's  vanity 
in  me  not  to  think  they  know  best."  She  let  John  press 
her  hand  upon  his  forehead. 

"  I  wish  I  could  know,"  she  continued.  "  I  yearn 
for  wise  counsel.  O  son !  why  do  we,  both  of  us,  so  dis 
trust  and  slum  our  one  only  common  friend?  He  could 
tell  us  what  to  do,  son ;  and,  oh,  how  we  need  some  one 
to  tell  us  !  " 

John  dropped  the  hand.  "I  don't  need  Jeff-Jack. 
He's  got  to  need  me." 

"  Oh,  presumptuous  boy  !  John,  you  might  say  Mr. 
Raveuel.  He's  old  enough  to  be  your  father." 

"  No,  he's  not !  At  any  rate,  that's  one  thing  he'll 
never  be !  " 

The  widow  flared  up.  "  I  can  say  that,  sir,  without 
your  prompting." 

"  Why,  mother !     Why,  I  no  more  intended " 

"  John,  spare  me !  Oh,  no,  you  were  brutal  merely 
by  accident!  I  thank  you!  I  must  thank  you  for 
pointing  your  unfeeling  hints  at  the  most  invincib — I 
mean  inveterate — bachelor  in  the  three  counties." 

"  Inveterate  lover,  you'd  better  say.  He  marries 
Fannie  Halliday  next  March.  The  General's  telling 
every  Tom,  Dick  and  Harry  to-day." 

"  John,  I  don't  believe  it !  It  can't  be !  I  know 
better !  " 

"  I  wish  you  did,  but  they  told  me  themselves,  away 


202  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

last  July,  standing  hand  in  hand.  Mother,  he's  got  no 
more  right  to  marry  her — 

"  Than  you  have !  And  he  knows  it !  For  John, 
John !  There  never  was  a  more  pitiful  or  needless  mis 
match  !  Why,  he  could  have — but  it's  none  of  my 
business,  only — "  she  choked. 

"  No,  of  course  not,"  said  the  son,  emotionally,  "  and 
it's  none  of  mine,  either,  only — humph  !  "  He  rose  and 

strode  about.  "  Why  she  could  just  as  easily Oh, 

me!"  He  jostled  a  chair.  Mrs.  March  flinched  and 
burst  into  tears. 

"  Oh,  good  heavens !  mother,  what  have  I  done  now  ? 
I  know  I'm  coarse  and  irreverent  and  wilful  and  surly 
and  healthy,  and  have  got  the  big-head  and  the  Lord 
knows  what !  But  I  swear  I'll  stop  everything  bad  and 
be  everything  good  if  you'll  just  quit  off  sniv — weep- 
ing!"  ' 

Strange  to  say,  this  reasonable  and  practicable  pro 
position  did  not  calm  either  of  them. 

"  I'll  even  go  with  you  to  Jeff1  Jack  and  ask  his  ad 
vice — oh !  Jane-Anne-Maria !  now  what's  broke  ?  " 

"  Only  a  mother's  heart !  "  She  looked  up  from  her 
handkerchief.  "  Go  seek  his  advice  if  you  still  covet 
it ;  I  never  trusted  him ;  I  only  feared  I  might  doubt 
him  unjustly.  But  now  I  know  his  intelligence,  no  less 
than  his  integrity,  is  beneath  the  contempt  of  a  Chris 
tian  woman.  I  leave  you  to  your  books.  My  bed 

"O  mother,  I  wasn't  reading!  Come,  stay;  I'll  be 
as  entertaining  as  a  circus." 

"I  can't;  I'm  all  unstrung.  Let  me  go  while  I  can 
still  drag " 


A    WIDOW'S  ULTIMATUM  203 

John  rose.  A  horse's  tread  sounded.  "Now,  who 
can  that  be?" 

He  listened  again,  then  rolled  up  his  fists  and  growled 
between  his  teeth. 

"  Cawnsound  that  foo' — mother,  go  on  up  stairs,  I'll 
tell  him  you've  retired." 

"  I  shall  do  nothing  so  dishonorable.  AVhy  should 
you  bury  me  alive  ?  Is  it  because  one  friend  still  comes 
with  no  scheme  for  the  devastation  of  our  sylvan 
home?" 

Before  John  could  reply  sunshine  lighted  the  in 
quirer's  face  and  she  stepped  forward  elastically  to  give 
her  hand  to  Mr.  Dinwiddie  Pettigrew. 

When  he  was  gone,  Daphne  was  still  as  bland  as  May, 
for  a  moment,  and  even  John's  gravity  was  of  a  pleas 
ant  sort.  "  Mother,  you're  just  too  sweet  and  modest 
to  see  what  that  man's  up  to.  I'm  not.  I'd  like  to  tell 
him  to  stay  away  from  here.  Why,  mother,  he's — he's 
courting !  " 

The  mother  smiled  lovingly.  "  My  son,  I'll  attend  to 
that.  Ah  me !  suitors  !  They  come  in  vain — unless  I 
should  be  goaded  by  the  sight  of  these  dear  Widewood 
acres  invaded  by  the  alien."  She  sweetened  like  a 
bride. 

The  son  stood  aghast.  She  lifted  a  fond  hand  to  his 
shoulder.  "  John,  do  you  know  what  heart  hunger  is  ? 
You're  too  young.  I  am  ready  to  sacrifice  any  thing  for 
you,  as  I  always  was  for  your  father.  Only,  I  must 
reign  alone  in  at  least  one  home,  one  heart!  Fear 
not ;  there  is  but  one  thing  that  will  certainly  drive  me 
again  into  marriage." 


204      JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

"  What's  that,  mother?  " 

"  A  daughter-in-law.     If  my  son  marries,  I  have  no 
choice — I  must !  "     She  floated  up-stairs. 


XXXVI. 

A    NEW    SHINGLE    IN    SUEZ 

NEXT  day — "  John,  didn't  you  rise  very  early  this 
morning  ?  " 

"  No,  ma'am." 

He  had  not  gone  to  bed.  Yet  there  was  a  new  repose 
in  his  face  and  energy  in  his  voice.  He  ate  breakfast 
enough  for  two. 

"  Millie,  hasn't  Israel  brought  my  horse  yet  ?  " 

He  came  to  where  his  mother  sat,  kissed  her  forehead, 
and  passed ;  but  her  languorous  eyes  read,  written  all 
over  him,  the  fact  that  she  had  drawn  her  cords  one  de 
gree  too  tight,  and  that  in  the  night  something  had 
snapped ;  she  had  a  new  force  to  deal  with. 

"  John  " — there  was  alarm  in  her  voice — he  had  the 
door  half  open — "  are  you  so  cruel  and  foolish  as  to  take 
last  evening's  words  literally  ?  " 

"  That's  all  gay,  mother ;  'tain't  the  parson  I'm  going 
after,  it's  the  surveyor." 

He  shut  the  door  on  the  last  word  and  went  away 
whistling.  Not  that  he  was  merry ;  as  his  horse  started 
he  set  his  teeth,  smote  in  the  spurs,  and  cleared  the 
paling  fence  at  a  bound. 


A  NEW  SHINGLE  IN  SUEZ  205 

The  surveyors  were  Champion  and  Shotwell.  John 
worked  with  them.  To  his  own  surprise  he  was  the  life 
of  the  party.  Some  nights  they  camped.  They  sang 
jolly  songs  together;  but  often  Shotwell  would  say: 

"  O  Champion,  I'll  hush  if  you  will ;  we're  scaring 
the  wolves.  Now,  if  you  had  such  a  voice  as  John's — 
Go  on,  March,  sing  '  Queen  o'  my  Soul.'  ': 

John  would  sing ;  Shotwell  would  lie  back  on  the 
pine-needles  with  his  eyes  shut,  and  each  time  the  singer 
reached  the  refrain,  "  Mary,  Mary,  queen  of  my  soul," 
the  impassioned  listener  would  fetch  a  whoop  and  cry, 
"  That's  her !  "  although  everybody  had  known  that  for 
years  the  only  "  her "  who  hud  queened  it  over  Shot- 
well's  soul  was  John's  own  Fannie  Halliday. 

"Xow,  March,  sing,  'Thou  wert  the  first,  thou  aht 
the  layst/  an'  th'ow  yo'  whole  soul  into  it  like  you  did 
last  night !  " 

"  John,"  said  Champion  once,  after  March  had  sung 
this  lament,  "You're  a  plumb  fraud.  If  you  wa'n't  you 
couldn't  sing  that  thing  an'  then  turn  round  and  sing, 
'  They  laughed,  ha-ha !  and  they  quaffed,  ha-ha  !  ' 

"Let's  have  it!"  cried  Shotwell.  Paass  tin  cups 
once  mo',  gen'lemen  /  " — tink — tink — 

"  March,"  said  Champion,  "  if  you'll  excuse  the  per 
sonality,  what's  changed  you  so  ?  " 

John  laughed  and  said  he  didn't  think  he  was 
changed,  but  if  he  was  he  reckoned  it  was  evolution. 
Which  did  not  satisfy  Shotwell,  who  had  "  quaffed,  ha- 
ha  ! "  till  he  was  argumentative. 

"  Don't  you  'scuse  personally  't  all,  March.  I  know 
wha's  change'  you.  'Tain't  no  'sperience.  You  ain't 


206  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

been  converted.  You're  gettin'  ripe  !  'S  all  is  about  it. 
Wha'  changes  green  persimmons  ?  's  nature ;  'tain't 
'sperience." 

"  Well,  I'd  like  to  know  if  sunshine  an'  frost  ain't 
experiences,"  retorted  Champion. 

"  Some  experiences,"  laughed  John,  "  are  mighty  hot 
sunshine,  and  some  are  mighty  hard  frosts."  To  which 
the  two  old  soldiers  assented  with  more  than  one  senti 
mental  sigh  as  the  three  rolled  themselves  in  their  blank 
ets  and  closed  their  eyes. 

When  the  survey  was  done  they  made  a  large  colored 
map  of  everything,  and  John  kept  it  in  a  long  tin  tube 
— what  rare  times  he  was  not  looking  at  it. 

"  How  short-sighted  most  men  are !  They'll  have 
lands  to  dispose  of  and  yet  not  have  maps  made  !  How 
the  devil  do  they  expect  ever" — etc.  Sometimes  he 
smiled  to  himself  as  he  rolled  the  gorgeous  thing  up, 
but  only  as  we  smile  at  the  oddities  of  one  whom  we 
admire. 

He  opened  an  office.  It  contained  a  mantel-piece,  a 
desk,  four  chairs,  a  Winchester  rifle,  and  a  box  of  cigars. 
The  hearth  and  mantel-piece  were  crowded  with  speci 
mens  of  earths,  ores,  and  building  stones,  and  of  woods 
precious  to  the  dyer,  the  manufacturer,  the  joiner  and 
the  cabinet-maker.  Inside  the  desk  lay  the  map  when 
ever  he  was,  and  a  revolver  whenever  he  was  not — "  Out. 
Will  be  back  in  a  few  minutes." 

On  the  desk's  top  wrere  more  specimens,  three  or  four 
fat  old  books  from  Widewood,  and  on  one  corner,  by 
the  hour,  his  own  feet,  in  tight  boots,  when  he  read 
Washington's  Letters,  Story  on  the  Constitution,  or  the 


WISDOM  AND  FAITH  KISS  EACH  OTHER  207 

Geology  of  Dixie.  What  interested  Suez  most  of  all 
was  his  sign.  It  professed  no  occupation.  "John 
March."  That  was  all  it  proclaimed,  for  a  time,  in  gilt, 
on  a  field  of  blue  smalts.  But  one  afternoon  when  he 
was — "  Out  of  town.  Will  be  back  Friday  " — some 
Rosemont  boys  scratched  in  the  smalts  the  tin  word, 
Gentleman. 

"Let  it   alone,  John,"  said   the  next   day's  Courier. 
"It's  a  good  ad.,  and  you  can  live  up  to  it."     It  stayed. 


XXXVII. 

WISDOM    AND    FAITH    KISS    EACH    OTHER 

IT  came  to  pass  in  those  days  that  an  effort  to  start  a 
religious  revival  issued  from  Suez  "University."  It 
seems  the  "  Black-and-Tannery,"  as  the  Rosemont  boys  , 
called  it,  was  having  such  increase  in  numbers  that  its 
president  had  thought  well  to  give  the  national  thanks 
giving  day  special  emphasis  on  the  devotional  side. 
Prayer  for  gifts  of  grace  to  crown  these  temporal  good 
fortunes  extended  over  into  a  second  and  third  evening, 
black  young  women  and  tan  young  men  asked  to  be 
prayed  for,  the  president  "  wired "  glad  news  to  the 
board  in  New  York,  the  board  "wired"  back,  "Speak 
unto  the  children  of  Israel  that  they  go  forward  !  " — just 
ten  words,  economy  is  the  road  to  commendation — meet 
ings  were  continued,  and  the  gray-headed  black  janitor, 


208  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

richest  man  in  the  institution,  leading  in  prayer,  prom 
ised  that  if  the  Lord  would  "  come  down  "  then  and 
there,  "  right  thoo  de  roof,"  he  himself  would  pay  for 
the  shingles ! 

Since  corner-stone  day  the  shabby-coated  president 
had  not  known  such  joy.  In  the  chapel,  Sunday  morn 
ing,  he  read  the  story  of  the  two  lepers  who  found  the 
Syrian  camp  deserted  in  the  siege  of  Samaria  ;  and 
preached  from  the  text,  "  We  do  not  well :  this  day  is  a 
day  of  good  tidings,  and  we  hold  our  peace ;  .  .  . 
So  they  came  and  called  unto  the  porter  of  the  city." 
That  afternoon  he  went  to  Parson  Tombs.  The  pastor 
was  cordial,  brotherly  ;  full  of  tender  gladness  to  hear  of 
the  "  manifestations."  They  talked  a  great  while,  were 
pleased  with  each  other,  and  came  to  several  kind  and 
unexpected  agreements.  They  even  knelt  and  prayed 
together.  As  to  the  president's  specific  errand — his 
proposal  for  a  week  of  union  revival  meetings  in  Parson 
Tomb's  church,  with  or  without  the  town  congregation, 
the  "  university  students "  offering  to  occupy  only  the 
gallery — the  pastor  said  that  as  far  as  lie  was  concerned, 
he  was  much  disposed  to  favor  it. 

"  Why,  befo'  the  wa'  ow  slaves  used  to  worship  with 
us  ;  I've  seen  ow  gallery  half  full  of  'm  !  And  we'd  be 
only  too  glad  to  see  it  so  again — for  we  love  'em  yet, 
seh — if  they  wouldn't  insist  so  on  mixin'  religion  an' 
*  politics.  I'll  consult  some  o'  my  people  an'  let  you 
know." 

When  he  consulted  his  church  officers  that  evening 
only  two  replied  approvingly.  One  of  them  was  the 
oldest,  whitest  haired  man  in  the  church,  "  Faw  my 


WISDOM  AXD  FAITH  KISS  EACH  OTHER   209 

part,"  lie  said,  "  I  don't  think  the  churches  air  a-behav- 
in'  theyse'ves  like  Christians  to  the  niggchs  anywheres. 
I  jest  know  ef  my  Lawd  an'  Master  was  here  in  Dixie 
now  he'd  not  bless  a  single  one  of  all  these  separations 
between  churches,  aw  in  churches,  unless  it's  the  separa 
tion  o'  the  sexes,  which  I'm  pow'ful  sorry  to  see  that  -4 
broke  up.  I'm  faw  invitin'  them  people,  dry-so,  an'  I 
don't  give  a  cent  whether  they  set  up-stairs  aw  down" 
—which  was  true. 

The  other  approving  voice  was  young  Doctor  Grace.   - 

"  Brethren,  I  believe  in  separating  worshippers  by 
race.  But  when,  as  now,  this  is  so  fully  and  amicably 
provided  for,  I  would  have  all  come  together,  joined,  yet 
separated,  to  cry  with  one  shout,  '  Lord,  revive  us!' 
And  he'll  do  it,  brethren  !  I  feel  it  right  here !  "  He 
put  his  hand  on  the  exact  spot. 

Garnet  spoke.  "Brother  Grace,  you  say  the  separa 
tion  is  fully  provided  for — where'll  the  white  teachers 
of  our  colored  brethren  sit?  If  they  sit  down-stairs  we 
run  the  risk  of  offending  some  of  our  own  folks;  if  they 
sit  in  the  gallery  that's  a  direct  insult  to  the  whole  com 
munity.  It'll  not  be  stood.  When  colored  mourners 
come  up  to  the  front — h-they'll  come  in  troops — where'll 
you  put  'em  ?  " 

"  I'd  put  them  wherever  there's  room  for  them,"  was 
the  heroic  reply. 

"  Oh,  there'd  be  room  for  them  everywhere,"  laughed 
Garnet,  "  for  as  far  as  our  young  folks  are  concerned, 
the  whole  thing  would  be  a  complete  frazzle.  Why, 
you  take  a  graceless  young  fellow,  say  like  John  March. 
How  are  you  going  to  get  him  to  come  up  here  and 


210       JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

kneel  down  amongst  a  lot  of  black  and  saddle-colored 
bucks  and  wenches  ? — I  word  it  Ins  way,  you  understand. 
No,  sir,  as  sure  as  we  try  this  thing,  we'll  create  dissen 
sion — in  a  church  where  everything  now  is  as  sweet  and 
peaceful  as  the  grave." 

"  Of  course  we  mustn't  have  dissensions,"  said  Parson 
Tombs. 

Mr.  Usher,  who  spoke  last  and  very  slowly,  said  but 
a  word  or  two.  He  agreed  with  Brother  Garnet.  And 
yet  he  believed  this  was  a  message  from  on  high  to  be 
up  and  a-doin'.  "This  church,  brethren,  has  jest  got  to 
be  replaastcred,  an'  /  don't  see  how  we  goin1  to  do  it 
'ithout  we  have  a  outpourin'  o'  the  spirit  that'll  give  us 
mo'  church  membehs." 

So  the  good  parson  dropped  the  matter,  and  saw  how 
rightly  he  had  followed  the  divine  guidance  when  only 
a  day  or  two  later  the  "  university  "  insulted  and  exas 
perated  all  Suez  by  enrolling  three  young  white  women 
from  Sandstone.  The  Courier,  regretting  to  state  that 
this  infringed  110  statute,  deprecated  all  violence,  and 
while  it  extolled  the  forbearance  of  the  people,  yet 
declared  that  an  education  which  educated  backward, 
and  an  institution  which  sought  to  elevate  an  inferior 
race  by  degrading  a  superior,  would  compel  the  people 
to  make  laws  they  would  rather  not  enact.  The  Black- 
and-Tannery's  effort  for  a  union  revival  meeting  lay  at 
the  door  of  "  our  church,"  said  Garnet  smilingly  to 
Sister  Proudfit,  "  as  dead  as  Ananias."  The  kind  pastor 
was  troubled. 

Yet  he  was  gladdened  again  when  Barbara,  on 
horseback,  brought  word  from  "pop-a"  that  he  had 


WISDOM  AND  FAITH  KISS  EACH  OTHER   211 

found  half  a  dozen  of  his  students  praying  together  for 
the  conversion  of  their  fellows,  and  that  the  merest  hint 
of  revival  meetings  in  Suez  had  been  met  by  them  with 
such  zeal  that  he  saw  they  were  divinely  moved.  "  Get 
thee  up,  brother,"  the  Major's  note  ended,  "  for  there  is 
a  sound  of  abundance  of  rain." 

"  Is  it  good  news  ?  "  asked  Barbara.  The  white- 
haired  man  handed  her  the  note,  joyfully,  and  stood  at 
her  saddle-bow  watching  her  face  as  she  gravely  read  it. 

"  Bless  the  Lord,"  he  said,  "  and  bless  you,  too,  my 
daughter,  faw  yo'  glad  tidin's.  I'll  see  Mary  and  Mar 
tha  Suiter  and  Doctor  Grace  right  off,  and  get  ready  to 
ketch  the  blessed  shower.  May  the  very  first  droppin's 
fall  on  you,  my  beautiful  child.  I've  heard  what  a  wise 
an'  blessed  help  you've  been  to  yo'  father  since  yo' — here 
lately.  Ain't  you  a-goin'  to  give  yo'  heart  to  Jesus, 
daughter  ?  " 

She  met  his  longing  look  with  the  same  face  as  before ; 
not  blankly,  yet  denying,  asking,  confessing  nothing. 
Truth  there,  but  no  fact. 

"  Well,  good-by,"  said  the  old  man,  "  I  believe  you're 
nearer  the  kingdom  now  than  you  know."  His  awk 
ward  kindness  brought  her  nearer  still. 

Thus  the  revival  began  at  Rosemont.  The  two  con 
gregations  joined  counsel,  and  decided  to  hold  the  meet 
ings  in  Parson  Tombs's  church. 

"  I'm  proud,  Brother  Tombs — or,  rather,  I'm  grateful," 
said  Garnet.  "  I  look  on  this  as  a  divine  vindication 
against  the  missionary  solicitude  of  an  alien  institution's 
ambitious  zeal.  My  brethren,  it's  a  heavenly  proof  of 
the  superior  vitality  of  Southern  Christianity." 


212  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

But  they  decided  not  to  begin  at  once.  Mary  Salter 
thought  they  should,  and  so  did  the  unmarried  pastor  of 
the  other  church,  who,  they  said,  was  "  sweet  on  her." 

"  All  we  need  is  faith  !  "  said  Miss  Mary. 

"  No,  it's  not,"  was  Miss  Martha's  calm  response,  "  we 
need  a  little  common  sense."  She  said  the  two  pastors 
ought  to  preach  at  least  two  Sunday  sermons,  each 
"  pointed  toward  the  projected — that  is  to  say  expected— 
showers  of  blessing." 

"  Sort  o'  take  the  people's  temperature,"  put  in  Doctor 
Grace,  but  she  ignored  him.  By  that  time,  she  said,  it 
would  be  too  near  Christmas  to  start  any  tiling  of  the 
kind  before 

"Why,  Christmas,  Sister  Martha,  think  what  Christ 
mas  is  ?  It  ought  to  be  just  the  time  !  " 

"  Yes,  but  it  isn't." 

"  I  think  Miss  Martha's  right,"  said  Parson  Tombs, 
very  sweetly  to  Mary ;  "  arid  I  think,"  turning  as  affec 
tionately  to  Martha,  "  that  Miss  Mary's  right,  too.  We 
need  faith  and  wisdom.  The  Lord  promises  both,  and 
so  we  must  use  all  we  can  uv  both.  Now,  if  we  can 
begin  a  couple  of  days  before  New  Year,  so's  to  have 
things  agoin'  by  New  Year's  eve,  I  think  we'll  find  that 
wisdom  and  faith  have  kissed  each  other." 

Miss  Martha  and  Sister  Tombs  smiled  softly  at  the 
startling  figure.  Miss  Mary  and  the  unmarried  pastor 
dropped  their  eyes.  But  when  Doctor  Grace  said,  fer 
vently,  "  That  sounds  good !  "  all  admitted  the  excellence 
of  Parson  Tombs's  suggestion. 


A>  UBB1NG  A  GAINST  MEN  218 


XXXVIII. 

RUBBING    AGAINST    MEN 

ABOUT  three  in  the  afternoon  on  the  last  day  of  the 
year  John  March  was  in  the  saddle  loping  down  from 
Widewood. 

He  was  thinking  of  one  of  the  most  serious  obstacles 
to  the  furtherance  of  his  enterprise  :  the  stubborn  hostil 
ity  of  the  Sandstone  County  mountaineers.  To  the  gen 
tlest  of  them  it  meant  changes  that  would  make  game 
scarcer  and  circumscribe  and  belittle  their  consciously 
small  and  circumscribed  lives ;  to  the  wilder  sort  it 
meant  an  invasion  of  aliens  who  had  never  come  before 
for  other  purpose  than  to  break  up  their  stills  and  drag 
them  to  jail.  As  he  came  out  into  the  Susie  and  Pussie 
pike  he  met  a  frowsy  pine  woodsman  astride  a  mule, 
returning  into  the  hills. 

"  Howdy,  Enos."     They  halted. 

"Howdy,  Johnnie.  "Well,  ef  you  ain't  been  a-swappin' 
critters  ag'n,  to  be  sho' !  Looks  mighty  much  like  you 
a-chawed  this  time,  less'n  this  critter  an'  the  one  you  had 
both  deceives  they  looks  a  pow'ful  sight." 

John  expressed  himself  unalarmed  and  asked  the 
news. 

"  I  ain't  pick  up  much  news  in  the  Susie,"  said 
Enos.  "  Jeff- Jack's  house  beginnin'  to  look  mos'  done. 
Scan'lous  line  house!  Mawustus  hayndy,  havin'  it 
jined'n'  right  on,  sawt  o',  to  old  Halliday's  that  a  way. 


214  JOHN  MA  R  CH,  SO  U  TI1ERNER 

Johnnie,  why  don't  you  marry?  You  kin  doit;  the 
gal  fools  ain't  all  peg  out  yit." 

"  No,"  laughed  John,  "nor  they  ain't  the  worst  kind, 
either." 

"  Thass  so  ;  the  wuss  kinesis  the  fellers  'at  don't  marry 
'em.  Why,  ef  I  was  you,  I'd  have  a  wife  as  pooty  as  a 
speckle'  hound  pup,  an'  yit  one  'at  could  build  biscuits 
an'  cook  coffee,  too !  An'  I'd  jess  quile  down  at  home 
in  my  sock  feet  an'  never  git  up,  lessen  it  wus  to  eat  aw 
go  to  bed.  I  wouldn't  be  a  cavortin'  an'  projeckin' 
aroun'  to  settle  up  laynds  which  they  got  too  many  set- 
tlehs  on  'em  now,  an'  cf  you  bring  niggehs  we'll  kill 
'em,  an'  ef  you  bring  white  folks  we'll  make  'em  wish 
they  was  dead." 

The  two  men  smiled  good-naturedly.  March  knew 
every  word  bespoke  the  general  spirit  of  Enos's  neigh 
bors  and  kin  ;  men  who  believed  the  world  was  flat  and 
would  trust  no  man  who  didn't ;  who,  in  their  own  for 
ests,  would  shoot  on  sight  any  stranger  in  store  clothes ; 
who  ate  with  their  boots  off  and  died  with  them  on. 

"  Reckon  I  got  to  risk  it,"  said  John  ;  "  can't  always 
tell  how  things  '11  go." 

"  Thass  so,"  drawled  Enos.  "  An'  yit  women  folks 
seem  like  evm  they  think  they  kin.  I  hear  Grannie 
Sugg,  a-ridin'  home  fum  church,  'llow  ef  Johnnie  March 
bring  air  railroad  'ithin  ten  mile'  o'  her,  he  better  leave 
his  medjer  'ith  the  coffin  man." 

"  Tell  her  howdy  for  me,  will  you,  Enos  ?  "  said  John  ; 
and  Enos  said  he  would. 

Deeply  absorbed,  but  clear  in  bloody  resolve,  March 
walked  his  horse  down  the  turnpike  in  the  cold  sunshine 


A5  UBBING  A  GA  INS  T  MEN  215 

and  blustering  air.  He  heard  his  name  and  looked 
back  ;  had  he  first  recognized  the  kindly  voice  he  would 
not  have  turned,  but  fled,  like  a  partlet  at  sight  of  the 
hawk,  from  Parson  Tombs. 

"  Howdy,  John  !  Ought  to  call  you  Mister  March,  I 
reckon,  but  you  know  I  never  baptized  you  Mister." 
They  moved  on  together.  "  How's  yo'  maw  ?  " 

John  said  she  was  about  as  usual  and  asked  after  the 
parson's  folks. 

"  O  they  all  up,  thank  the  Lawd.  Mr.  March,  this  is 
the  Lawd's  doin'  an'  mahvellous  in  ow  eyes,  meetin'  up 
with  you  this  way.  I  was  pray  in'  faw  it  as  I  turned  the 
bend  in  the  road  !  He's  sent  me  to  you,  Mr.  March,  I 
feel  it  !  " 

March  showed  distress,  but  the  parson  continued  bright. 

"  I  jest  been  up  to  get  Brother  Garnet  to  come  he'p 
us  in  ow  protracted  meet'n',  an'  to  arrange  to  let  the  col 
lege  boys  come  when  they  begin  school  ag'in,  day  after 
to-morrow.  Mr.  March,  I  wish  you'd  come,  won't  you  ? 
to-night  !  " 

"  I  couldn't  very  well  come  to-night,  Mr.  Tombs.  I 
—  I  approve  of  such  meetings.  I  think  it's  a  very 
pleasant  way  to  pass  —  '  he  reddened.  "  But  I'm  too 


"  This  is  business,  Mr.  March  !  The  urgcntcst  kind  ! 
It's  the  spirit's  call  !  It  may  never  call  again,  brotheh  ! 
What  if  in  some  more  convenient  season  Gawd  should 
mawk  when  yo'  fear  comcth  ?  " 

The  young  man  drooped  like  a  horse  in  the  rain,  and 
the  pastor,  mistaking  endurance  for  contrition,  pressed 
his  plea.  "  You  know,  the  holy  book  says,  Come,  faw 


216  JOHN  MARCH,   SOUTHERNER 

all  things  ah  now  ready  ;  it  don't  say  all  things  will  ever 
be  ready  again  !  The  p'esumption  is  they  won't !  O 
my  dear  young  brotheh,  there's  a  wrath  to  come — real 
— awful — everlasting — O  flee  from  it !  Come  to  the 
flowing  fountain  !  One  plunge  an'  yo'  saved  !  Johnnie 
— do  I  make  too  free  ?  I've  been  prayin'  faw  you  by 
name  faw  years  !  " 

"  0  you  hadn't  ought  to  have  done  that,  sir !  I 
wa'n't  worth  it." 

"  Ah  !  yes  you  air  !  Johnnie,  I've  watched  yo'  ev'y 
step  an'  stumble  all  yo'  days.  I've  had  faith  faw  you 
when  many  a  one  was  sayin'  you  was  jess  bound  to  go  to 
the  bad — which  you  know  it  did  look  that  way,  brotheh. 
But,  s'  I,  Satan's  a-siftin'  of  him !  lie's  in  the  gall  o' 
bitterness  jess  as  I  was  at  his  age!  " 

"You!  Ha-ha!  Why,  my  dear  Mr.  Tombs,  you 
don't  know  who  you're  talking  about !  " 

"  Yes,  I  do,  brotheh.  I  was  jess  so !  An'  s'  I,  he'll 
pull  through  !  His  motheh's  prayers  '11  prevail,  evm  if 
mine  don't !  An'  now,  when  ev'ybody  sees  you  a-changin' 
faw  the  better— 

"  Better  !     Great  Sc— 

"  Yes,  an'  yet  'ithout  the  least  sign  o'  conversion — I 
say,  s'  I,  it's  restrainin'  grace !  Ah  !  don't  I  know  ? 
Next  '11  come  savin'  grace,  an'  then  repentance  unto 
life.  Straight  is  the  way,  an'  I  can  see  right  up 
it!" 

"  Why,  Mr.  Tombs,  you're  utterly  wrong  !  I've  only 
learned  a  little  manners  and  a  little  sense.  All  that's 
ever  restrained  me,  sir,  was  lack  of  sand.  The  few  bad 
things  I've  kept  out  of,  I  kept  out  of  simply  because  I 


A  UBBING  A  GA  INS  T  MEN  217 

knew  if  I  went  into  'em  I'd  bog  down.  It's  not  a  half 
hour  since  I'd  have  liked  first-rate  to  be  worse  than  lam, 
but  I  didn't  have  the  sand  for  that,  either.  Why,  sir, 
I'm  worse  to-day  than  I  ever  was,  only  it's  deeper  hid. 
If  men  went  to  convict  camps  for  what  they  are,  instead 
of  what  they  do,  I'd  be  in  one  now." 

"  Conviction  of  sin  !  Praise  Gawd,  brotheh,  you've 
got  it !  0  bring  it  to-night  to  the  inquirer's  seat !  " 

But  the  convicted  sinner  interrupted,  with  a  superior 
smile  :  "  I've  no  inquiries  to  offer,  Mr.  Tombs.  I  know 
the  plan  of  salvation,  sir,  perfectly  !  We're  all  totally 
depraved,  and  would  be  damned  on  Adam's  account  if 
we  wa'n't,  for  we've  lost  communion  with  God  and  are 
liable  to  all  the  miseries  of  this  life,  to  death  itself,  and 
the  pains  of  hell  forever ;  but  God  out  of  his  mere  good 
pleasure  having  elected  some  to  everlasting  life,  the  rest 
of  us — O  I  know  it  like  a-b-c  !  Mother  taught  it  to  me 
before  I  could  read.  Yes,  I  must,  with  grief  and  hatred 
of  my  sin,  turn  from  it  unto  God — certainly — because 
God,  having  first  treated  the  innocent  as  if  he  were 
guilty,  is  willing  now  to  treat  the  guilty  as  if  he  were 
innocent,  which  is  all  right  because  of  God's  sovereignty 
over  us,  his  propriety  in  us,  and  the  zeal  he  hath  for 
his  own  worship — O — 

"  But,  Mr.  Tombs,  what's  the  use,  sir?  Some  things 
I  can  repent  of,  but  some  I  can't.  I'm  expecting  a  letter 
to-day  tha'll  almost  certainly  be  a  favorable  answer  to 
an  extensive  proposition  I've  made  for  opening  up  my 
whole  tract  of  land.  Now,  I've  just  been  told  by  one  of 
my  squatters  that  if  I  bring  settlers  up  there  he'll  kill 
'em  ;  and  I  know  and  you  know  he  speaks  for  all  of 


218  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

them.  Well,  d'  you  s'pose  I  won't  kill  him  the 
minute  he  lifts  a  hand  to  try  it  ? "  The  speaker's 
eyes  widened  pleasantly.  He  resumed  : 

"  There's  another  man  down  here.  He's  set  his 
worm-eaten  heart  on  something — perfect  right  to  do  it. 
I've  no  right  to  say  he  sha'n't.  But  I  do.  I'm  just 
honing  to  see  him  to  tell  him  that  if  he  values  his  health 
he'll  drop  that  scheme  at  the  close  of  the  year,  which 
closes  to-day." 

"  O  John,  is  that  what  yo'  father — I  don't  evm  say 
yo'  pious  mother — taught  you  to  be  ?  " 

"  No,  sir  ;  my  father  begged  me  to  be  like  my  mother. 
And  I  tried,  sir,  I  tried  hard  !  No  use  ;  I  had  to  quit. 
Strange  part  is  I've  got  along  better  ever  since.  But 
now,  s'pose  I  should  repent  these  tilings.  'Twouldn't 
do  any  good,  sir.  For,  let  me  tell  you,  Mr.  Tombs, 
underneath  them  all  there's  another  matter — you  can't 
guess  it — please  don't  try  or  ask  anybody  else — a  matter 
that  I  can't  repent,  and  wouldn't  if  I  could !  Well, 
good-day,  sir,  I'm  sure  I  reciprocate  your " 

"  Come  to  the  meeting,  my  brotheh.  You  love  yo' 
motheh.  Do  it  to  please  her." 

"  I  don't  know ;  I'll  see,"  replied  John,  with  no  in 
tention  of  seeing,  but  reflecting  with  amused  self-censure 
that  if  anything  he  did  should  visibly  please  his  mother, 
such  a  result  would  be,  at  any  rate,  unique. 


SAME  AFTERNOON  219 


XXXIX. 

SAME    AFTERNOON 

SUEZ  had  never  seen  so  busy  a  winter.  Never  before 
in  the  same  number  of  weeks  had  so  much  cotton  been 
hauled  into  town  or  shipped  from  it.  Goods  had  never 
been  so  cheap,  gross  sales  so  large,  or  Blackland  darkeys 
and  Sandstone  crackers  so  flush. 

And  naturally  the  prosperity  that  worked  downward 
had  worked  upward  all  the  more.  Rosemont  had  a  few 
more  students  than  in  any  earlier  year ;  Montrose  gave 
her  young  ladies  better  molasses ;  the  white  professors  in 
the  colored  "university,"  and  their  wives,  looked  less 
starved ;  and  General  Halliday,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
he  was  part  owner  of  a  steamboat,  had  at  last  dropped 
the  title  of  "  Agent."  Even  John  March  had  somehow 
made  something. 

Barbara,  in  black,  was  shopping  for  Fannie.  Jo 
hanna  was  at  her  side.  The  day  was  brisk.  Ox-wagons 
from  Clearwater,  mule-teams  from  Blackland,  bull-carts 
from  Sandstone,  were  everywhere.  Cotton  bales  were 
being  tumbled,  torn,  sampled,  and  weighed;  products 
of  the  truck-patch  and  door-yard,  and  spoils  of  the 
forest,  were  changing  hands.  Flakes  of  cotton  blew 
about  under  the  wheels  and  among  the  reclining  oxen. 
In  the  cold  upper  blue  the  buzzards  circled,  breasted 
the  wind,  or  turned  and  scudded  down  it.  From  chim 
ney  tops  the  smoke  darted  hither  and  yon,  and  went  to 


220  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

shreds  in  the  cedars  and  evergreen  oaks.  On  one  small 
space  of  sidewalk  which  was  quiet,  Johanna  found 
breath  and  utterance. 

"Umph!  dis-yeh  town  is  busy.  Look  like  jess  ev  y- 
body  a-makin'  money."  She  got  her  mistress  to  read  a 
certain  sign  for  her.  "  Jawn  Mawch,  Gen'lemun  !  — 
k-he-he ! — dass  a  new  kine  o'  business.  An'  yit,  Miss 
Barb,  I  heah  Gen'l  lialliday  tell  Miss  Fannie  'istiddy 
dat  Mr.  Mawch  done  come  out  ahade  on  dem-ali  tele 
graph  pole'  what  de  contractors  done  git  sicken'  on  an' 
th'ow  up.  He  mus'  be  pow'ful  smart,  dat  Mr.  Mawch ; 
ain't  he,  Miss  Barb  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  murmured  Barbara ;  "  anybody  can 
make  money  when  everybody's  making  it."  She  bent 
her  gaze  into  a  milliner's  window. 

The  maid  eyed  her  anxiously.  There  were  growing 
signs  that  Barbara's  shopping  was  not  for  the  bride-elect 
only,  but  for  herself  also,  and  for  a  long  journey  and  a 
longer  absence. 

"  Miss  Barb,  yondeh  Mr.  Mawch.  Miss  Barb,  he  de 
hayn'somess  mayn  in  de  three  counties !  " 

"  Ridiculous !  Come,  make  haste."  Haste  was  a 
thing  they  were  beginning  to  make  large  quantities  of 
in  Suez.  It  has  some  resemblance  to  speed. 

"  Miss  Garnet,  pardon  me."  March  gave  the  Rose- 
mont  bow,  she  gave  the  Montrose.  "  Don't  let  me  stop 
you,  please."  He  caught  step. 

"  Is  General  Halliday  in  town  ?  I  suppose,  of  course, 
you've  seen  Miss  Fannie  this  morning?"  His  boyish 
eyes  looked  hungry  for  a  little  teasing.  She  stopped  in 
a  store  doorway.  Her  black  garb  heightened  the  charm 


SAME  AFTERNOON  221 

of  her  red-brown  hair,  and  of  the  countenance  ready 
enough  for  laughter,  yet  well  content  without  it. 

"  Yes.  I'm  shopping  for  her  now."  Her  smiling  lip 
implied  the  coming  bridal,  but  her  eyes  told  him  teasing 
was  no  longer  in  order.  General  Halliday  was  in 
Blackland,  she  said,  but  would  be  back  by  noon. 
March  gave  the  Rosemont  bow,  she  gave  the  Montrose, 
Johanna  unconsciously  courtesied. 

In  the  post-office  John  found  two  letters.  One  he 
saw  instantly  was  from  Leggett.  He  started  for  his  of 
fice,  opening  the  other,  which  was  post-marked  Boston. 
It  ran  : 

"  MY  DEAR  MR.  MARCH. — My  father  has  carefully 
considered  your  very  clear  and  elaborate  plan,  and, 
while  he  freely  admits  his  judgment  may  be  wrong,  he 
deems  it  but  just  to  be  perfectly  frank  with  you." 

The  reader's  step  ceased.  A  maker  of  haste  jostled 
him.  He  did  not  know  it.  His  heart  sank ;  he  lost 
the  place  on  the  page.  He  leaned  against  an  awning- 
post  and  read  on : 

"  He  feels  bound  to  admire  a  certain  masterly  inven 
tiveness  and  courage  in  your  plan,  but  is  convinced  it 
will  cost  more  than  you  estimate,  and  cannot  be  made 
at  the  same  time  safe  and  commercially  remunerative." 

There  was  plenty  more,  but  the  wind  so  ruffled  the 
missive  that,  with  unlifted  eyes,  he  folded  it.  Pie  looked 
across  the  corner  of  the  court-house  square  to  his  office, 
whose  second  month's  rent  was  due,  and  the  first  month's 
not  yet  paid.  He  saw  his  bright  blue  sign  with  the 
uncommercial  title,  which  he  had  hoped  to  pay  the 


222  JOHN  MARCH    SOUTHERNER 

painter  for  to-day.  For,  nad  liis  proposition  been  ac 
cepted,  the  letter  was  to  have  contained  a  small  remit 
tance.  A  gust  of  wind  came  scurrying  round  the  post- 
office  corner.  Dust,  leaves,  and  flakes  of  cotton  rose  on 
its  wave,  and — ah  ! — his  hat  went  with  them. 

Johanna's  teeth  flashed  in  soft  laughter  as  she  waited 
in  a  doorway.  "  Run,"  she  whispered,  "  run,  Mr.  Jawn 
Mawch,  Gen'lemun.  You  so  long  gitt'n'  to  de  awffice 
hat  cayn't  wait.  Yass,  betteh  give  it  up.  Bresh  de 
ha'r  out'n  yo'  eyes  an'  let  dat-ah  niggeh-felleh  ketch  it. 
K-he  !  I  'clare,  dat's  de  mos'  migracious  hat  I  eveh 
see !  Niggeh  got  it !  Dass  right,  Mr.  Mawch,  give  de 
naysty  niggeh  a  dime.  Po'  niggeh !  now  run  tu'n  yo' 
dime  into  cawn-juice." 

At  his  desk  March  read  again  : 

"  We  appreciate  the  latent  value  of  your  lands. 
Time  must  bring  changes  which  will  liberate  that  value 
and  make  it  commercial ;  but  it-  was  more  a  desire  to 
promote  these  changes  than  any  belief  in  their  nearness 
which  prompted  my  father's  gifts  to  Rosemont  College 
and  Suez  University.  Not  that  he  shares  the  current 
opinion  that  you  are  having  too  much  politics.  Prog 
ress  and  thrift  may  go  side  by  side  with  political  storms, 
and  I  know  he  thinks  your  State  would  be  worse  off  to 
day  if  it  could  secure  a  mere  political  calm. 

"In  reply  to  your  generous  invitation  to  suggest 
changes  in  your  plan,  I  will  myself  venture  one  or  two 
questions. 

"  First — Is  not  the  elaborateness  of  your  plan  an  argu- 
ment  against  it  ?  Dixie  is  not  a  new,  wild  country ;  and 
therefore  does  not  your  scheme — to  establish  not  only 


SAME  AFTERNOON  223 

mines,  mills  and  roads,  but  stores,  banks,  schools  and 
churches  under  the  patronage  and  control  of  the  com 
pany — imply  that  as  a  community  and  commonwealth 
you  are,  in  Dixie,  in  a  state  of  arrested  development? 

"  Else  why  propose  to  do  through  a  private  commer 
cial  corporation  what  is  everywhere  else  done  through 
public  government — by  legislation,  taxation,  education, 
and  courts?  Cannot — or  will  not — your  lawmakers 
and  taxpayers  give  you  their  co-operation  ? 

"The  spirit  of  your  plan  is  certainly  beyond  criticism. 
It  seeks  a  common  welfare.  It  does  not  offer  swift  en 
richment  to  the  moneyed  few  through  the  use  of  ignorant 
labor  unlifted  from  destitution  and  degradation,  but 
rather  the  remuneration  of  capital  through  the  social 
betterment  of  all  the  factors  of  a  complete  community. 
But  will  the  plan  itself  pay?  Have  not  the  things 
around  you  which  paid  been  those  which  cared  little  if  ^ 
savings-bank,  church  or  school  lived  or  died,  or  whether 
laws  or  customs  favored  them  ? 

"  Suppose  that  on  your  own  lands  your  colony  should 
seem  for  a  time  to  succeed,  would  you  not  be  an  island 
in  an  ocean  of  misunderstanding  and  indifference  ?  If 
you  should  need  an  act  of  county  or  township  legislation, 
could  you  get  it  ?  Is  this  not  why  capital  seeks  wilder 
and  more  distant  regions  when  it  would  rather  be  in 
Dixie? 

"  I  make  these  points  not  for  their  own  sake,  but  to 
introduce  a  practical  suggestion  which  my  father  is 
tempted  to  submit  to  you.  And  this,  it  may  surprise  you 
to  find,  is  based  upon  the  contents  of  the  paper  handed 
you  as  I  was  leaving  Suez,  by  the  colored  man,  Leggett, 


224  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

whose  peculiar  station  doubtless  makes  it  easy  for  him 
to  see  relations  and  necessities  which  better  or  wiser  men, 
from  other  points  of  view,  might  easily  overlook. 

"This  man  would  make  your  scheme  as  public  as  you 
would  make  it  private,  and  my  father  is  inclined  to  think 
that  if  public  interest,  action,  and  credit  could  be  en- 
listed  as  suggested  in  Leggctt's  memorandum,  your  prob 
lem  would  have  new  attractions  much  beyond  its  present 
merely  problematic  interest,  and  might  find  financial 
backers.  Alliance  with  Leggett  is,  of  course,  out  of  the 
question  ;  but  if  you  can  consent  and  undertake  to  ex 
ploit  your  lands  on  the  line  of  operation  sketched  by  him 
we  can  guarantee  the  pecuniary  support  necessary  to  the 
effort,  and  you  may  at  once  draw  on  us  at  sight  for  the 
small  sum  mentioned  in  your  letter,  if  your  need  is  still 
urgent.  With  cordial  regard, 

"  Yours  faithfully, 

"  HENRY  FAIR." 

March  started  up,  but  sat  again  and  gazed  at  the  mis 
sive. 

"  Well,  I  will  swear  !  "  He  smiled,  held  it  at  arm's 
length,  and  read  again  facetiously.  "  '  Alliance  with 
Leggett  is,  of  course,  out  of  the  question  ;  but  if  you  can 
consent  and  undertake  to  exploit  your  lands  on  the  line 
of  operation  sketched  by  him ' 

"  Now,  where's  that  nigger's  letter  ? — I  wonder  if  I — " 
a  knock  at  the  door — "  come  in  ! — could  have  dropped  it 
when  my  hat — O  come  in — ha !  ha ! — this  isn't  a  private 
bedroom ;  I'm  dressed." 


ROUGH  GOING  225 

XL. 

ROUGH  GOING 

"  AH  !  Mr.  Pettigrew,  why  Vt  you  walk  right  in,  sir  ? 
I  wasn't  at  prayer." 

Mr.  Pettigrew,  his  voice  made  more  than  usually 
ghostly  by  the  wind  and  a  cold,  whispered  that  he 
thought  he  had  heard  conversation. 

"  O  no,  sir,  I  was  only  blowing  up  my  assistant  for 
losing  a  letter.  Why,  well,  I'll  be  dog —  You  picked 
it  up  in  the  street,  didn't  you  ?  Well,  Mr.  Pettigrew, 
I'm  obliged  to  you,  sir.  Will  you  draw  up  a  chair. 
Take  the  other  one,  sir ;  I  threw  that  one  at  a  friend  the 
other  day  and  broke  it." 

As  the  school-teacher  sat  down  John  dragged  a  chair 
close  and  threw  himself  into  it  loungingly  but  with 
tightly  folded  arms.  Dinwiddie  hitched  back  as  if  un 
pleasantly  near  big  machinery.  John  smiled. 

"I'm  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Pettigrew.  I've  been  want 
ing  a  chance  to  say  something  to  you  for  some  time,  sir." 

Pettigrew  whispered  a  similar  desire. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  John,  and  was  silent.  Then  :  "  It's 
about  my  mother,  sir.  Your  last  call  was  your  fourth, 
I  believe."  He  frowned  and  waited  while  the  pipe-clay 
of  Mr.  Pettigrew's  complexion  slowly  took  the  tint  of  old 
red  sandstone.  Then  he  resumed  :  "  You  used  to  tell 
us  boys  it  was  our  part  not  so  much  to  accept  the  pro 
tection  of  the  laws  as  to  protect  them — from  their  own 
mistakes  no  less  than  from  the  mistakes  of  those  who  owe 


226  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

them  reverence — much  as  it  becomes  the  part  of  a  man 
to  protect  his  mother.  Wasn't  that  it  ?  " 

The  school-master  gave  a  husky  assent. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Pettigrew,  I'm  a  man,  now,  at  least  bodily 
— I  think.  Now,  I'm  satisfied,  sir,  that  you  hold  my 
mother  in  high  esteem — yes,  sir,  I'm  sure  of  that — don't 
try  to  talk,  sir,  you  only  irritate  your  throat.  I  know 
you  think  as  I  do,  sir,  that  one  finger  of  her  little  faded 
hand  is  worth  more  than  the  whole  bad  lot  of  you  and 
me,  head,  heart,  and  heels." 

The  listener's  sub-acid  smile  protested,  but  John — 

"  I  believe  she  thinks  fairly  well  of  you,  sir,  but  she 
doesn't  really  know  you.  With  me  it's  just  the  reverse. 
Hm  !  Yes,  sir.  You  know,  Mr.  Pettigrew,  my  dear 
mother  is  of  a  highly  wrought  imaginative  temperament. 
Now,  I'm  not.  She  often  complains  that  I've  got  no 
more  romance  in  my  nature  than  my  dear  father  had. 
She  idealizes  people.  I  can't.  But  the  result  is  I  can 
protect  her  against  the  mistakes  such  a  tendency  might 
even  at  this  stage  of  life  lead  her  into,  for  they  say  the 
poet's  heart  never  grows  old.  You  understand." 

The  school-master  bowed  majestically. 

"  My  mother,  Mr.  Pettigrew;  can  never  love  where  she 
can't  idealize,  nor  marry  where  she  can't  love  ;  she's  too 
true  a  woman  for  that.  I  expect  you  to  consider  this 
talk  confidential,  of  course.  Now,  I  don't  know,  sir, 
that  she  could  ever  idealize  you,  but  against  the  bare 
possibility  that  she  might,  I  must  ask  you  not  to  call 
again.  Hm  !  That's  all,  sir." 

Mr.  Pettigrew  rose  up  ashen  and  as  mad  as  an  adder. 
His  hair  puffed  out?  his  eyes  glistened.  John  rose  more 


ROUGH  GOING  227 

leisurely,  stepped  to  the  hearth,  picked  up  a  piece  of  box 
stuff  and  knocked  a  nail  out  of  one  end. 

"  I'll  only  add  this,  sir :  If  you  don't  like  the  terms, 
you  can  have  whatever  satisfaction  you  want.  But  I  re 
member  " — he  produced  a  large  spring-back  dirk-knife, 
sprung  it  open  and  began  curling  off  long  parings  from 
the  pine  stick — "that  in  college,  when  any  one  of  us 
vexed  you,  you  took  your  spite  out  on  us,  and  generally 
on  me,  in  words.  That's  all  right.  We  were  boys  and 
couldn't  hold  malice."  A  shaving  fell  upon  Mr.  Petti- 
grew's  shoulder  and  stayed  there.  "  But  once  or  twice 
your  venomous  contempt  came  near  including  my 
father's  name.  Still  that's  past,  let  it  go.  But  now,  if 
you  do  take  your  spite  out  in  words  be  careful  to  let 
them  be  entirely  foreign  to  the  real  subject,  and  be  dead 
sure  not  to  involve  any  name  but  mine.  Or  else  don't 
begin  till  you've  packed  your  trunk  and  bought  your 
railroad  ticket  ;  and  you'd  better  have  a  transatlantic 
steamer  ticket,  too." 

Mr.  Pettigrew  had  drawn  near  the  door.  With  his 
hand  on  it  he  hissed,  "  You'll  find  this  is  not  the  last  of 
this,  sir." 

"  I  reckon  it  is,"  drawled  John,  with  his  eyes  on  his 
whittling.  As  the  door  opened  and  shut  he  put  away 
his  knife,  and  was  taking  his  hat  when  his  eye  fell  upon 
Cornelius's  letter.  He  opened  and  read  it. 

The  writing  was  Leggett's,  but  between  the  lines  could 
be  caught  a  whisper  that  was  plainly  not  the  mulatto's. 

He  was  ready,  he  wrote,  "  to  interjuce  an'  suppote  that 
bill  to  create  the  Three  Counties  Colonization  Company, 
Limited — which  I  has  fo  shawten  its  name  an  takened  out 


228  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

the  tucks.  The  sed  company  will  buy  yo  whole  Im 
mense  Track,  paying  for  the  same  one  third  J  its  own 
stock — another  one  third  ^  to  be  subscribened  by  private 
parties — an  the  res  to  be  takened  by  the  three  counties 
and  paid  for  in  Cash  to  the  sed  Company  Limited — which 
the  sed  cash  to  be  raised  by  a  special  tax  to  be  voted  by 
the  People.  This  money  shell  be  used  by  the  sed  Com 
pany  Limited  to  construe  damns  an  sich  eloquent  an  dis- 
comojus  impertinences  which  then  they  kin  sell  the  sed 
lans  an  impertinences  to  immigraters  factoriaus  an 
minors  an  in  that  means  pay  divies  on  the  Stock  an  so 
evvybody  get  mo  or  less  molasses  on  his  finger  an  his 
vote  Skewered.  Thattle.  fetch  white  immigration  an 
thattle  ketch  the  white-liner's  vote.  But  where  some 
dever  an  as  soon  as  any  six  miles  square  shell  contain 
twenty  white  childen  of  school  Age  the  sed  Company 
Limited  shell  be  boun  to  bill  an  equip  for  them  a  free 
school  house.  An  faw  evvy  school  house  so  billden  sed 
Company  Limited  shell  be  likewise  boun  to  bill  another 
sommers  in  the  three  Counties  where  a  equal  or  greater 
number  of  collared  children  are  without  one.  Thattle 
skewer  the  white  squatter  and  Nigger  vote." 

The  next  clause — there  was  only  a  line  or  two  besides 
—brought  an  audible  exclamation  from  the  reader: 
"  Lassly  faw  evvy  sich  school  house  so  bilt  the  sed  Co. 
Limited  shell  pay  a  sum  not  less  than  its  cost  to  some 
white  male  college  in  the  three  counties  older  then  the 
sed  Company  Limited." 

John  marvelled.  What  was  Garnet  doing  or  promis 
ing,  that  Leggett  should  thus  single  out  Rosemont  for 
subsidies  ?  And  who  was  this  in  the  letter's  closing  line 


ROUGH  GOING  229 

— certainly  not  Garnet — who  would  "  buy  both  fists  full  " 
of  stock  as  soon  as  the  bill  should  pass  ?  He  stepped  out 
and  walked  along  the  windy  street  immersed  in  thought. 

"  John  !  " — General  Halliday  beckoned  to  him.  The 
General  and  Proudfit  were  pushing  into  the  lattice  doors 
of  a  fragrant  place  whose  bulletin  announced  "  Mock 
Turtle  Soup  and  Venison  for  Lunch  To-day."  March 
joined  them.  "  Had  your  lunch,  John  ?  I  heard  you 
were  looking  for  me." 

"  Well,  yes,  but  there's  no  hurry."  The  three  stood 
and  ate,  talking  over  incidents  of  war  times,  with  John 
at  a  manifest  disadvantage,  and  presently  they  passed 
from  the  luncheon  trestles  to  the  bar. 

"  No,  Proudfit,  if  Garnet  hadn't  come  in  on  our  left 
just  then  and  charged  the  moment  he  did  we'd  have  lost 
the  whole  battery.  Garnet  was  a  poor  soldier  in  camp, 
you're  right ;  but  on  the  field  you'd  only  to  tease  him 
and  he'd  fight  like  a  wild  bull." 

They  drank,  lighted  cigars,  and  sauntered  out  toward 
the  General's  office.  "  John,  I've  read  what  you  wrote 
me.  I  can't  see  it.  We'll  never  colonize  any  lands  in 
Dixie,  my  boy,  till  we've  changed  the  whole  system  of 
laws  under  which  we  rent  land  and  raise  crops.  You 
might  as  well  try  to  farm  swamp  lands  without  draining 
them." 

"  Why,  General,  my  scheme  doesn't  include  planta 
tions  at  all." 

"  Yes,  it  does ;  Dixie's  a  plantation  State,  and  you 
can't  make  your  little  patch  of  it  prosper  till  our  plant 
ing  prospers — can  he,  Proudfit  ?  "  . 

The   Colonel  laughed.     "  No  go,  General ;  I'm  not 


230  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

going  to  side  with  you.  Our  prosperity,  all  around, 
hangs  on  the  question  whether  you  and  the  darkey  may 
f  tax  us  and  spend  the  taxes  as  you  please,  or  we  shall 
tax  ourselves  and  spend  the  taxes  as  we  please." 

"  Ah,  Proudfit,  you  mean  whether  you  may  keep  the 
taxes  low  enough  to  hold  the  darky  down  or  let  them 
be  raised  high  enough  to  lift  him  up.  Walk  in,  gen 
tlemen.  Proudfit,  take  the  rocking-chair." 

But  the  Colonel  stood  trying  to  return  the  General's 
last  thrust,  and  John  was  bored.  "  General,  all  I  want 
to  see  you  about  is  to  say  that  I'm  going  down  into 
Blackland  in  a  day  or  two  to  get  as  many  darkies  as  I 
can  to  settle  on  my  lands,  and  if  you'll  tell  me  the  ones 
that  are  in  your  debt,  I'll  have  nothing  to  do  with  them 
unless  it  is  to  tell  them  they've  got  to  stay  where  they 
are." 

Proudfit  whirled  and  stared.  The  General  gave  a 
low  laugh. 

"  Why,  John,  that  sounds  mighty  funny  to  come  from 
you.  Would  you  do  such  a  thing  as  that  ? — run  off 
with  another  man's  niggers  ?  " 

John  bit  his  lip  and  looked  at  his  cigar.  "  Are  they 
yours,  General  ?  " 

"  By' Jove !  my  son,  they're  not  yours  !  O !  of  course, 
\  you've  got  the  legal — pshaw !  I'm  not  going  to  dispute 
an  abstraction  with  you.  Go  and  amuse  yourself;  you 
can't  get  'em ;  the  niggers  that  don't  owe  won't  go ; 
that's  the  poetry  of  it.  I'd  rather  you'd  take  the  fel 
lows  that  owe  than  the  one's  that  don't ;  but  you  won't 
get  either  kind." 

"  I  can  try,  General." 


ROUGH  GOING  231 

"  No,  sir,  you  can't !  "  exclaimed  Proudfit.  His  cigar 
went  into  the  fireplace  with  a  vicious  spat,  and  his  eyes 
snapped.  "  Ow  niggehs  ah  res'less  an'  discontented 
enough  now,  and  whether  you'll  succeed  aw  not  you  T 
shan't  come  'round  amongst  them  tryin'  to  steal  them 
away !  Damned  if  we  don't  run  you  out  of  the  three 
counties !  So  long,  General ! "  He  went  by  March 
to  the  door. 

John  stood  straight,  his  jaws  set,  chin  up,  eyes  down. 
Halliday,  by  grimaces,  was  adjuring  him  to  forbear. 
"  But,  Colonel  Proudfit,"  he  said — Proudfit  paused — 
"  you'll  not  insist  on  the  word  '  steal  ? ' ; 

"  You  can  call  it  what  you  damn  please,  sir,  but  you 
mustn't  do  it."  The  speaker  passed  out,  leaving  the 
door  invitingly  ajar. 

The  General  caught  John's  arm — "  Wait,  I  want  to 
see  you." 

"  I'll  be  back  in  a  minute,  General." 

"  My  boy,  the  grave's  full  of  nice  fellows  going  to 
be  back  in  a  minute.  Son  John,  there's  only  one  thing 
I'm  thoroughly  ashamed  of  you  for " 

"  I  can  see  you  half  a  dozen  better,  General ;  let  me 
go." 

"  You've  no  need  to  go ;  Proudfit's  coming  right 
back ;  he's  only  gone  for  his  horse.  There's  plenty  of 
time  to  hear  the  little  I've  got  to  say.  John  March, 
I'm  ashamed  of  this  reputation  you've  got  for  being 
quick  on  the  trigger.  O,  you're  much  admired  for  it — 
by  both  sexes  !  Ye  gods  !  John,  isn't  it  pitiful  to  see  a 
fellow  like  you  not  able  to  keep  a  kindly  contempt  for 
the  opinion  of  fools  !  My  dear  boy — my  dear  boy  ! 


232  JQ HN  MA  R CII,  SO  U THERNER 

you'll  never  be  worth  powder  enough  to  blow  you  to  the 
devil  till  you've  learned  to  let  the  sun  go  down  on  your 
wrath !  " 

John  smiled  and  dropped  his  eyes,  and  the  General, 
with  an  imperative  gesture  detaining  some  one  at  the 
young  man's  back,  spoke  on.  "  John,  the  old  year's 
dying.  For  God's  sake  let  it  die  in  peace.  Yes,  and 
for  your  own  sake,  and  for  the  sake  of  us  old  murderers 
of  the  years  long  dead,  let  as  many  old  things  as  will  die 
with  it.  I  don't  say  bury  anything  alive — that's  not 
my  prescription  ;  but  ease  their  righteous  death  and  give 
them  a  grave  they'll  stay  in." 

"  General,  all  right !  the  Colonel  may  go  for  the 
present,  but  I'll  tell  you  now,  and  I'll  soon  show  him, 
that  whatever  the  laws  of  my  State  give  me  leave  to  do 
I'll  do  if  I  choose,  even  if  it's  to  help  black  men  do 
what  white  men  say  shan't  be  done."  John  reached 
behind  him  for  the  latch. 

His  mentor  smiled  queerly.  "  Yes,  even  if  it's  to 
float  a  scheme  drawing  twice  as  much  water  as  we've 
got  on  our  political  sandbar.  Ah  !  John  March,  don't 
you  know  that  the  law's  permission  is  never  enough  ? 
Better  get  all  the  permissions  you  can,  and  turn  your 
'  I '  into  the  most  multitudinous  '  we '  you  can  possibly 
make  it.  Seven  legislatures  can't  dig  you  too  much 
channel." 

March's  reply  was  cut  short  by  a  voice  behind  him, 
which  said : 

"  You  can  have  the  Courier's  permission." 

As  John  wheeled  about,  Jeff-Jack  came  a  step  for 
ward  and  Barbara  Garnet  shrank  against  a  window. 


SQ  UA  TTER  SO  VEREIGNTY  233 

"Well,  Miss  Garnet,"  laughed  March,  as  Ravenel 
conversed  with  Halliday,  "  I  ivas  absorbed,  wa'n't  I  ? 
You  and  Miss  Fannie  going  to  watch  the  old  year  out 
and  the  new  year  in  to-night  ?  " 

"No,  sir,  we're  only  going  to  the  revival  meeting," 
replied  Barbara,  with  mellow  gravity.  "  All  bad  people 
are  cordially  invited,  you  know.  I  reckon  I've  got  to 
be  there." 

"Why,  Miss  Garnet,  my  name's  Legion,  too.  I 
didn't  know  we  were  such  close  kin."  He  said  good- 
day  and  departed,  mildly  wondering  what  the  next 
incident  would  be.  The  retiring  year  seemed  to  be 
rushing  him  through  a  great  deal  of  unfinished  busi 
ness. 


XLI. 

SQUATTER    SOVEREIGNTY 

IT  was  really  a  daring  stroke,  so  to  time  tne  revival 
that  the  first  culmination  of  interest  should  be  looked 
for  on  New  Year's  eve.  On  that  day  business,  the  dry 
sorts,  would  be  apt  to  decline  faster  than  the  sun,  and 
the  nearness  of  New  Year  would  make  men — country 
buyers  and  horsemen  in  particular — social,  thirsty,  and 
adventurous. 

In  fact,  by  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  the  streets 
around  the  court-house  square  were  wholly  given  up  to 


234  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

the  white  male  sex.  One  man  had,  by  accident,  shot 
his  own  horse.  Another  had  smashed  a  window,  also 
by  accident,  and  clearly  the  fault  of  the  bar-keeper, 
who  shouldn't  have  dodged.  Men,  and  youths  of  men's 
stature,  were  laying  arms  about  each  other's  necks, 
advising  one  another,  with  profanely  affectionate  as 
sumptions  of  superiority,  to  come  along  home,  promising 
on  triple  oath  to  do  so  after  one  more  drink,  arid  break 
ing  forth  at  unlooked-for  moments  in  blood-curdling 
yells.  Three  or  four  would  take  a  fifth  or  seventh 
stirrup  cup,  mount,  start  home,  ride  round  the  square 
and  come  tearing  up  to  the  spot  they  had  started  from, 
as  if  they  knew  and  were  showing  how  they  brought 
the  good  news  from  Ghent  to  Aix,  though  beyond  a 
prefatory  catamount  shriek,  the  only  news  any  of  them 
brought  was  that  he  could  whip  anything  of  his  size, 
weight  and  age  in  the  three  counties.  The  Jews  closed 
their  stores. 

Proudfit  had  gone  home.  Enos  had  met  a  brother 
and  a  cousin,  and  come  back  with  them.  John  March, 
with  his  hat  on,  sat  alone  at  his  desk  with  Fair's  and 
Leggett's  letters  pinned  under  one  elbow,  his  map  under 
the  other,  and  the  verbal  counsels  of  Enos,  General 
Halliday,  and  Proudfit  droning  in  his  ears.  He  sank 
back  with  a  baffled  laugh. 

He  couldn't  change  a  whole  people's"  habit  of  thought, 

he  reflected.     Even  the    Courier  followed   the  popular 

-V       whim  by  miles  and  led  it  only  by  inches.     So  it  seemed, 

at  least.     And  yet  if  one  should  try  to  make  his  scheme 

a  public  one  and  leave  the  Courier  out — imagine  it ! 

And  must  the   Courier,  then,  be  invited  in  ?     Must 


SQUATTER  SOVEREIGNTY  235 

everybody  and  his  nigger  "  pass  their  plates  ?  "  Ah  ! 
how  had  a  few  years — a  few  months — twisted  and 
tangled  the  path  to  mastership !  Through  what 
thickets  of  contradiction,  what  morasses  of  bafflement,  "^— 
what  unimperial  acceptance  of  help  and  counsel  did 
that  path  now  lead !  And  this  was  no  merely  personal 
fate  of  his.  It  was  all  Dixie's.  He  would  never  change 
his  politics ;  O  no  !  But  how  if  men's  politics,  asking 
no  leave  of  their  owners,  change  themselves,  and  he  who 
does  not  change  ceases  to  be  steadfast  ? 

Behold  !  All  the  way  down  the  Swanee  River,  spite 
of  what  big  levees  of  prevention  and  draining  wheels  of 
antiquated  cure,  how  invincibly  were  the  waters  of  a 
new  order  sweeping  in  upon  the  "  old  plantation." 

And  still  the  old  plantation  slumbered  on  below  the 
level  of  the  world's  great  risen  floods  of  emancipations  ' 
and  enfranchisements  whereon  party  platforms,  meas 
ures,  triumphs,  and  defeats  only  floated  and  eddied, 
mere  drift-logs  of  a  current  from  which  they  might  be 
cast  up,  but  could  not  turn  back. 

He  bent  over  the  desk.  "  Jove  !  "  was  all  he  said  ; 
but  it  stood  for  the  realization  of  the  mighty  difference 
between  the  map  under  his  eyes  and  what  he  was  under 
oath  to  himself  to  make  it.  What  "  lots  "  of  men — 
not  mountaineers  only,  but  Blacklanders,  too — had 
got  to  change  their  notions — notions  stuck  as  fast  in 
their  belief  as  his  mountains  were  stuck  in  the  ground — 
before  that  map  could  suit  him.  To  think  harder,  he 
covered  his  face  with  his  hands.  The  gale  rattled  his 
window.  He  failed  to  hear  Enos  just  outside  his  door, 
alone  and  very  drunk,  prying  off  the  tin  sign  of  John 


236      JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

March,  Gentleman.  He  did  not  hear  even  the  soft 
click  of  the  latch  or  the  yet  softer  footsteps  that  brought 
the  drunkard  close  before  his  desk  ;  but  at  the  first 
word  he  glanced  up  and  found  himself  covered  with  a 
revolver. 

"  Set  still,"  drawled  Enos.  In  his  left  hand  was  the 
tin  sign.  "  This  yeh  trick  looked  ti-ud  a-tellin'  lies,  so 
I  fotcli  it  in." 

Without  change  of  color — for  despair  stood  too  close 
for  fear  to  come  between — John  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the 
drunken  man's  and  began  to  rise.  The  weapon  followed 
his  face  up. 

"  Enos,  point  that  thing  another  way  or  I'll  kill 
you."  He  took  a  slow  step  outward  from  the  desk,  the 
pistol  following  with  a  drunken  waver  more  terrible 
than  a  steady  aim.  Enos  spoke  along  its  barrel,  still 
holding  up  the  sign. 

"  Is  this  little  trick  gwine  to  stay  fetch  in  ?  Say 
'yass,  mawsteh,'  aw  I  blow  yo'  head  off." 

But  John  still  held  the  drunkard's  eye.  As  he  took 
up  from  his  desk  a  large  piece  of  ore,  he  said,  "  Enos, 
when  a  man  like  you  leaves  a  gentleman's  door  open,  the 
gentleman  goes  and  shuts  it  himself." 

"  Yass,  you  bet !  So  do  a  niggah.  Shell  I  shoot,  aw 
does  you  'How 

"  I'm  going  to  shut  the  door,  Enos.  If  you  shoot  me 
in  the  back  I  swear  I'll  kill  you  so  quick  you'll  never 
know  what  hurt  you."  With  the  hand  that  held  the 
stone,  while  word  followed  word,  the  speaker  made  a 
slow  upward  gesture.  But  at  the  last  word  the  stone 
dropped,  the  pistol  was  in  March's  hand,  it  flashed  up 


SQUATTER  SOVEREIGNTY  237 

and  then  down,  and  the  drunkard,  blinded  and  sinking 
from  a  frightful  blow  of  the  weapon's  butt,  was  drag 
ging  his  foe  with  him  to  the  floor.  Down  they  went, 
the  pistol  flying  out  of  reach,  March's  knuckles  at 
Enos's  throat  and  a  knee  on  his  breast. 
"  'Nough,"  gasped  the  mountaineer,  "  'nough  !  " 

"  Not  yet !  I  know  you  too  well !  Not  till  one  of 
us  is  dead !  "  John  pressed  the  throat  tighter  with  one 
hand,  plunged  the  other  into  his  pocket,  and  drew  and 
sprung  his  dirk.  The  choking  man  gurgled  for  mercy, 
but  March  pushed  back  his  falling  locks  with  his  wrist 
and  lifted  the  blade.  There  it  hung  while  he  cried, 

"  O  if  you'd  only  done  this  sober  I'd  end  you !  I 
wish  to  God  you  wa'n't  drunk !  " 

"  'Nough,  Johnnie,  'nough !  You  air  a  gentleman, 
Johnnie,  sir." 

"  Will  you  nail  that  sign  up  again  ?  " 

"Yass." 

The  knife  was  shut  and  put  away,  and  when  Enos 
gained  his  feet  March  had  him  covered  with  his  maga 
zine  rifle.  "  Pick  that  pistol  up  wrong  end  first  and 
hand  it  to  me  !  Now  my  hat !  'Ever  mind  yours ! 
Now  that  sign." 

The  corners  of  the  tin  still  held  two  small  nails. 

"  Now  stand  back  again."  March  thrust  a  finger 
into  his  vest-pocket.  "  I  had  a  thumb-tack."  He 
found  it.  "  Now,  Enos,  I'll  tack  this  thing  up  myself. 
But  you'll  stand  behind  me,  sir,  so's  if  anyone  shoots 
he'll  hit  you  first,  and  if  you  try  to  get  away  or  to  un 
cover  me  in  the  least  bit,  or  if  anybody  even  cocks  a 
gun,  you  die  right  there,  sir.  Now  go  on !  " 


238  JOHN  MA R CHy  SOU THERNER 

The  sun  was  setting  as  they  stepped  out  on  the  side 
walk.  The  mail  hour  had  passed.  The  square  and  the 
streets  around  it  were  lonely.  The  saloons  themselves 
were  half  deserted.  In  one  near  the  Courier  office 
there  was  some  roystering,  and  before  it  three  tipsy 
horsemen  were  just  mounting  and  turning  to  leave  town 
by  the  pike.  They  so  nearly  hid  Major  Garnet  and 
Parson  Tombs  coining  down  the  sidewalk  on  foot  some 
distance  beyond,  that  March  did  not  recognize  them. 
At  Weed  and  Usher's  Captain  Champion  joined  the 
Major  and  the  parson.  But  John's  eye  was  on  one 
lone  man  much  nearer  by,  who  came  riding  leisurely 
among  the  trees  of  the  square,  looking  about  as  if  in 
search  of  some  one.  He  had  a  long,  old-fashioned  rifle. 

"  Wait,  Enos,  there's  your  brother.     Stand  still." 

John  levelled  his  rifle  just  in  time.  "Halt!  Drop 
that  gun  !  Drop  it  to  the  ground  or  I'll  drop  you  !  " 
The  rifle  fell  to  the  earth.  "  Now  get  away  !  Move !  " 
The  horseman  wheeled  and  hurried  off  under  cover  of 
the  tree-trunks. 

"  Gentlemen  !  "  cried  Parson  Tombs,  "  there'll  be 
murder  yonder !  "  He  ran  forward. 

"  Brother  Tombs,"  cried  Garnet,  walking  majestically 
after  him,  "  for  Heaven's  sake,  stop  !  you  can't  prevent 
anything  that  way."  But  the  old  man  ran  on. 

Champion,  with  a  curse  at  himself  for  having  only  a 
knife  and  a  derringer,  flew  up  a  stair  and  into  the 
Courier  office. 

"Lend  me  something  to  shoot  with,  Jeff- Jack,  the 
Yahoos  are  after  John  March." 

Kavenel  handed  from  a  desk-drawer,  that  stood  open 


SQUATTER  SOVEREIGNTY  239 

close  to  his  hand,  a  six-shooter.  Champion  ran  down 
stairs.  Eavencl  stepped,  smiling,  to  a  window. 

March  had  turned  his  back  and  was  putting  up  the 
sign,  pressing  the  nails  into  their  former  places  with  his 
thumb.  Men  all  about  were  peeping  from  windows  and 
doors.  Champion  ran  to  the  nearest  tree  in  the  square 
and  from  behind  it  peered  here  and  there  to  catch  sight 
of  the  dismounted  horseman,  who  was  stealing  back  to 
his  gun. 

"  Keep  me  well  covered,  you  lean  devil,"  growled 
John  to  Enos,  "  or  I'll  shoot  you  without  warning !  " 
Working  left-handed,  he  dropped  the  thumb-tuck. 
AVith  a  curse  between  his  teeth  he  stooped  and  picked 
it  up,  but  could  not  press  it  firmly  into  place.  He 
leaned  his  rifle  against  the  door-post,  drew  the  revolver 
and  used  its  butt  as  a  hammer.  Champion  saw  an 
elbow  bend  back  from  behind  a  tree.  The  moun 
taineer's  brother  had  recovered  his  gun  and  was  aiming 
it.  The  captain  fired  and  hit  the  tree.  March  whirled 
upon  Enos  with  the  revolver  in  his  face,  the  drunkard 
flinched  violently  when  not  to  have  flinched  would 
have  saved  both  lives,  and  from  the  tree-trunk  that 
Champion  had  struck  a  rifle  puffed  and  cracked. 
March  heard  the  spat  of  a  bullet,  and  with  a  sudden 
horrid  widening  of  the  eyes  Euos  fell  into  his  bosom. 

"  Great  God !  Euos,  your  brother  didn't  mean 
to— 

The  only  reply  was  a  fixing  of  the  eyes,  and  Enos 
slid  through  his  arms  and  sank  to  the  pavement  dead. 

Champion  had  tripped  on  a  root  and  got  a  cruel  fall, 
losing  his  weapon  in  a  drift  of  leaves ;  but  as  the 


240  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

brother  of  Enos  was  just  capping  his  swiftly  reloaded 
gun— 

"  Throw  up  your  hands ! "  cried  Parson  Tombs, 
laying  his  aged  eye  along  the  sights  of  March's  rifle ; 
the  hands  went  up  and  in  a  moment  were  in  the  clutch 
of  the  town  marshal,  while  a  growing  crowd  ran  from 
the  prisoner  and  from  Champion  to  John  March,  who 
knelt  with  Parson  Tombs  beside  the  dead  man,  moaning, 

"  0  good  Lord !  good  Lord !  this  needn't  'a'  been ! 
O  Enos,  I'd  better  'a'  killed  you  myself!  O  great  God, 
why  didn't  I  keep  this  from  happening,  when  I " 

Someone  close  to  him,  stooping  over  the  dead  under 
pretence  of  feeling  for  signs  of  life,  murmured,  "Stop 
talking."  Then  to  the  Parson,  "  Take  him  away  with 
you,"  and  then  rising  spoke  across  to  Garnet,  "  Howdy, 
Major,"  with  the  old  smile  that  could  be  no  one's  but 
Kavenel's.  He  and  Garnet  walked  away  together. 

"  Died  of  a  gunshot  wound  received  by  accident,"  the 
coroner  came  and  found.  John  March  and  the  minister 
had  gone  into  March's  office,  but  Captain  Champion's 
word  was  quite  enough.  It  was  nearly  tea-time  when 
John  and  the  Parson  came  out  again.  The  sidewalk 
was  empty.  As  John  locked  the  door  he  felt  a  nail 
under  his  boot,  picked  it  up,  and  seeming  not  to  real 
ize  his  own  action  at  all,  stepped  to  the  sidewalk's  edge, 
found  a  loose  stone  and  went  back  to  the  door,  all  the 
time  saying, 

"  No,  sir,  I've  made  it  perfectly  terrible  to  think  of 
God  and  a  hereafter,  but  somehow  I've  never  got  so  low 
down  as  to  wish  there  wa'n't  any.  I — "  his  thumb 
pressed  the  nail  into  its  hole  in  the  corner  of  his  sign — 


SQUATTER  SOVEREIGNTY  241 

"I  do  lots  of  things  that  arc  wrong,  awfully  wrong, 
though  sometimes  I  feel —  "  he  hammered  it  home  with 
the  stone — "  as  if  I'd  rather  " — he  did  the  same  for  the 
other  two  and  the  thumb-tack — "  die  trying  to  do  right 
than  live, — well, — this  way.  But — "  tossing  away  the 
stone  and  wiping  his  hands — "  that's  only  sometimes, 
and  that's  the  very  best  I  can  say." 

They  walked  slowly.  The  wind  had  ceased.  By  the 
Courier  office  John  halted. 

"Slipper!  O  excuse  me,  Mr.  Tombs!  really  I — I 
can't  sir ! — I — I'll  eat  at  the  hotel.  I've  got  to  see  a 
gentleman  on  business.  But  I  pledge  you  my  word, 
sir,  I'll  come  to  the  meeting."  They  shook  hands. 
"  You're  mighty  kind  to  me,  sir." 

The  gentleman  he  saw  on  business  wras  Ravenel. 
They  supped  together  in  a  secluded  corner  of  the  Swanee 
Hotel  dining-room,  talking  of  Widewood  and  coloniza 
tion,  and  by  the  time  their  cigars  were  brought — by  an 
obsequious  black  waiter  with  soiled  cuffs — March  felt 
that  he  had  never  despatched  so  much  business  at  one 
sitting  in  his  life  before. 

"  John/1  said  Ravenel  as  they  took  the  first  puff, 
"  there's  one  thing  you  can  do  for  me  if  you  will :  I 
want  you  to  stand  up  with  me  at  my  wedding." 

March  stiffened  and  clenched  his  chair.  "  Jeff-Jack, 
you  oughtn't  to  've  asked  me  that,  sir  !  And  least  of 
all  in  connection  with  this  Widewood  business,  in  which 
I'm  so  indebted  to  you !  It's  not  fair,  sir  !  " 

Ravenel  scarcely  roused  himself  from  reverie  to  reply, 
"  You  mustn't  make  any  connection.  I  don't." 

"Well,   then,   I'll    not,"  said    March.     "I'll    even 


242  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

thank  you  for  the  honor.  But  I  don't  deserve  either 
the  honor  or  the  punishment,  and  I  simply  can't  do  it !  " 

"  Can't  you  '  hide  in  your  breast  every  selfish  care  and 
flush  your  pale  cheek  with  wine  '  ?  Every  man  has  got 
to  eat  a  good  deal  of  crow.  It's  not  so  bad,  from  the 
hand  of  a  friend.  It  shan't  compromise  you." 

With  head  up  and  eyes  widened  John  gazed  at  the 
friendly-cynical  face  before  him.  "  It  would  compro 
mise  me ;  you  know  it  would !  Yes,  sir,  you  may 
laugh,  but  you  knew  it  when  you  asked  me.  You 
knew  it  would  be  unconditional  surrender.  I  don't  say 
you  hadn't  a  right  to  ask,  but — I'm  a  last  ditcher, 
you  know." 

"Well,"  drawled  Ravenel,  pleasantly,  when  they 
rose,  "if that's  what  you  prefer — 

"  No,  I  don't  prefer  it,  Jeff- Jack  ;  but  if  you  were  me 
could  you  help  it  ?  " 

"I  shouldn't  try,"  said  Ravenel. 


XLII. 

JOHN   HEADS   A   PROCESSION 

BY  the  afternoon  train  on  this  last  day  of  the  year 
there  had  come  into  Suez  a  missionary  returning  from 
China  on  leave  of  absence,  ill  from  scant  fare  and  over 
work. 

General  Halliday,  Fannie,  and  Barbara  were  at  tea 


JOHN  HEADS  A  PROCESSION  243 

when  Parson  Tombs  brought  in  the  returned  wanderer. 
The  General  sprang  to  his  feet  with  an  energy  that 
overturned  his  chair.  "  Why,  Sammie  Messenger,  con 
found  your  young  hide!  Well,  upon  my  soul!  I'm 
outrageous  proud  to  see  you !  Fan — Barb — come  here ! 
This  is  one  of  my  old  boys  !  Sam,  this  is  the  daughter 
of  your  old  Major;  Miss  Garnet.  Why,  confound  your 
young  hide ! " 

Parson  Tombs  giggled  with  joy.  "  Brother  Messen 
ger  is  going  to  add  a  word  of  exhortation  to  Brother 
Garnet's  discourse,"  he  said  with  grave  elation,  and 
when  the  General  execrated  such  cruelty  to  a  weary 
traveler,  he  laughed  again.  But  being  called  to  the 
front  door  for  a  moment's  consultation  with  the  pastor 
of  the  other  church,  he  presently  returned,  much  em 
barrassed,  with  word  that  the  missionary  need  not  take 
part,  a  prior  invitation  having  been  accepted  by 
Uncle  Jimmie  Eankin,  of  Wildcat  Eidge.  Fannie,  in 
turn,  cried  out  against  this  substitution,  but  the  gentle 
shepherd  explained  that  what  mercy  could  not  obtain 
official  etiquette  compelled. 

"  Tell  us  about  John  March,"  interposed  the  General. 
"  They  say  you  saved  his  life." 

"  I  reckon  I  did,  sir,  humanly  speakin'."  The  Par 
son  told  the  lurid  story,  Fannie  holding  Barbara's 
hand  as  they  listened.  The  church's  first  bell  began  to 
ring  and  the  Parson  started  up. 

"  If  only  the  right  man  could  talk  to  John !  He's 
very  persuadable  to-night  and  he'd  take  fum  a  stran 
ger  what  he  wouldn't  take  fum  us."  He  looked  fondly 
to  the  missionary,  who  had  risen  with  him.  "  I  wish 


244  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

you'd  try  him.  You  knew  him  when  he  was  a  toddler. 
He  asks  about  you,  freck-wently." 

"You'd  almost  certainly  see  him  down-town  some 
where  now,"  said  Fannie. 

Barbara  gave  the  missionary  her  most  daring  smile 
of  persuasion. 

March  was  found  only  a  step  or  two  from  Fannie's 
gate. 

"  Well,  if  this  ain't  a  plumb  Providence !  "  laughed 
the  Parson.  The  three  men  stopped  and  talked,  and 
then  walked,  chatted,  and  returned.  The  starlight  was 
cool  and  still.  At  the  Parson's  gate,  March,  refusing 
to  go  in,  said,  yes,  he  would  be  glad  of  the  missionary's 
company  on  a  longer  stroll.  The  two  moved  on  and 
were  quite  out  of  sight  when  Fannie  and  Barbara,  Avith 
Johanna  close  behind  them,  came  out  on  their  way  to 
church. 

"  It  would  be  funny,"  whispered  Fannie,  "  if  such  a 
day  as  this  should  end  in  John  March's  getting  religion, 
wouldn't  it  ?  " 

But  Barbara  could  come  no  nearer  to  the  subject 
than  to  say,  "  I  don't  like  revivals.  I  can't.  I  never 
could."  She  dropped  her  voice  significantly—"  Fan 
nie." 

"What,  dear?" 

"  What  were  you  going  to  say  when  Johanna  rang 
the  tea-bell  and  your  father  came  in  ?  " 

"  Was  I  going  to  say  something  ?  What'd  you  think 
it  was  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  was  something  about  Mr.  Ravenel." 


JOHN  HEADS  A  PROCESSION  245 

"O  well,  then,  I  reckon  it  wasn't  anything  much, 
was  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  but — Johanna,  you  can  go  on  into 
church."  They  loitered  among  the  dim,  lamp-lit  shad 
ows  of  the  church-yard  trees.  "  You  said  you  were  not 
like  most  engaged  girls." 

"Well,  I'm  not,  ami?" 

"  No,  but  why  did  you  say  so  ?  " 

"  Why,  you  know,  Barb,  most  girls  are  distressed 
with  doubts  of  their  own  love.  I'm  not.  It's  about  his 
that  I'm  afraid.  What  do  you  reckon's  the  reason  I've 
held  him  off  for  years  ?  " 

"  Just  because  you  could,  Fannie." 

"  IN  o,  my  dear  little  goosie,  I  did  it  because  he  never 
was  so  he  couldn't  be  held  off.  I  knew,  and  know 
yet,  that  after  the  wedding  I've  got  to  do  all  the  court 
ing.  I  don't  doubt  he  loves  me,  but  Barb,  love  isn't 
his  master.  That's  what  keeps  me  scared."  They 
went  in. 

The  service  began.  In  this  hour  for  the  putting 
away  of  vanities  the  choir  was  dispensed  with  and  the 
singing  was  led  by  a  locally  noted  precentor,  a  large, 
pert,  lazy  Yankee,  who  had  failed  in  the  raising  of 
small  fruits.  His  zeal  was  beautiful. 

"  Trouble  !  'Tain't  never  no  trouble  for  me  to  do 
nawthin',  an'  even  if  'twas  I'd  do  it !  "  He  sang  each 
word  in  an  argumentative  staccato,  and  in  high  passages 
you  could  see  his  wisdom  teeth.  Between  stanzas  he  spoke 
stimulating  exhortations :  "  Louder,  brethren  and  sisters, 
louder ;  the  fate  of  immortal  souls  may  be  a-hangin'  on 
the  amount  of  noise  you  make." 


24G  JOHN  MARCH,   SOUTHERNER 

As  hymn  followed  hymn  the  church  filled.  All  sorts 
— black  or  yellow  being  no  sort — all  sorts  came  ;  the 
town's  best  and  worst,  the  country's  proudest  and  forlorn- 
est;  the  sipper  of  wine,  the  dipper  of  snuff;  acrid 
pietist,  flagrant  reprobate,  and  many  a  true  Christian 
whose  God-forgiven  sins,  if  known  to  men,  neither 
church  nor  world  could  have  pardoned  ;  many  a  soul 
that  under  the  disguise  of  flippant  smiles  or  superior 
frowns  staggered  in  its  darkness  or  shivered  in  its  cold, 
trembling  under  visions  of  death  and  judgment  or 
yearning  for  one  right  word  of  guidance  or  extrication  ; 
and  many  a  heart  that  openly  or  secretly  bled  for  some 
other  heart's  reclaim.  And  so  the  numbers  grew  and 
the  waves  of  song  swelled.  The  adagios  and  largos  of 
ancient  psalmody  were  engulfed  and  the  modern  "  hyme 
toons,"  as  the  mountain  people  called  them,  were  so 
"  peert  an'  devilish  "  that  the  most  heedless  grew  atten 
tive,  and  lovers  of  raw  peanuts,  and  even  devotees  of 
tobacco,  emptied  their  mouths  of  these  and  filled  them 
with  praise. 

Garnet  had  never  preached  more  effectively.  For 
the  first  time  in  Barbara's  experience  he  seemed  to  her 
to  feel,  himself,  genuinely  and  deeply  the  things  he  said. 
His  text  was,  "  Be  sure  your  sin  will  find  you  out." 
Men  marvelled  at  the  life-likeness  with  which  he  pic 
tured  the  torments  of  a  soul  torn  by  hidden  and 
cherished  sin.  So  wonderful,  they  murmured,  are  the 
pure  intuitions  of  oratorical  genius !  Yet  Barbara  was 
longing  for  a  widely  different  word. 

Not  for  herself.  It  was  not  possible  that  she  should 
ever  tremble  at  any  pulpit  reasoning  of  temperance  and 


JOHN  HEADS  A  PROCESSION  247 

judgment  from  the  lips  of  her  father.  Three  things  in 
every  soul,  he  cried,  must  either  be  subdued  in  this  life 
or  be  forever  ground  to  powder  in  a  fiery  hereafter ;  and 
these  three,  if  she  knew  them  at  all,  were  the  three  most 
utterly  unsubdued  things  that  he  embodied — will,  pride, 
appetite.  The  word  she  vainly  longed  for  was  coveted 
for  one  whose  tardy  footfall  her  waiting  ear  caught  the 
moment  it  sounded  at  the  door,  and  before  the  turning 
of  a  hundred  eyes  told  her  John  March  had  come  and 
was  sitting  in  the  third  seat  behind  her. 

In  the  course  of  her  father's  sermon  there  was  no  lack 
of  resonant  Amens  and  soft  groaniiigs  and  meanings 
of  ecstasy.  But  Suez  was  neither  Wildcat  Ridge  nor 
Chalybeate  Springs,  and  the  tempering  chill  of  plastered  "^ 
ceiling  and  social  inequalities  stayed  the  wild  unrestraint 
of  those  who  would  have  held  free  rule  in  the  log  church 
or  under  the  camp-meeting  bower.  The  academic 
elegance  of  the  speaker's  periods  sobered  the  ardor  which 
his  warmth  inspired,  and  as  he  closed  there  rested  on  the 
assemblage  a  silence  and  an  awe  as  though  Sinai  smoked 
but  could  not  thunder. 

Barbara  hoped  against  hope.  At  every  enumeration 
of  will,  pride,  and  appetite  she  saw  the  Pastor's  gaze 
rest  pleadingly  on  her,  and  in  the  stillness  of  her  inmost 
heart  she  confessed  the  evil  presence  of  that  unregene- 
ratc  trinity.  Yet  when  he  rose  to  bid  all  mourners  for 
sin  come  forward  while  the  next  hymn  was  being  sung, 
she  only  mourned  that  she  could  not  go,  and  tried  in 
vain  not  to  feel,  as  in  every  drop  of  her  blood  she  still 
felt,  there  behind  her,  that  human  presence  so  different 
from  all  others  on  earth.  "  This  call,"  she  secretly  cried, 


248  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

"  this  hour,  are  not  for  me.  Father  in  Heaven  !  if  only 
they  might  be  for  him." 

Before  the  rising  precentor  could  give  out  his  hymn 
Uncle  Jimmie  Rankin  had  sprung  to  his  feet  and 
started  "  Rock  of  Ages  "  in  one  of  the  wildest  minors 
of  the  early  pioneers.  At  once  the  strain  was  taken 
up  on  every  side,  the  notes  swelled,  Uncle  Jimmie 
clapped  hands  in  time,  and  at  the  third  line  a  mountain 
woman  in  the  gallery,  sitting  with  her  sun-bonnet  pulled 
down  over  her  sore  eyes,  changed  a  snuff-stick  from  her 
mouth  to  her  pocket,  burst  into  a  heart-freezing  scream, 
r.and  began  to  thrash  about  in  her  seat.  The  hymn  rolled 
on  in  stronger  volume.  The  Yankee  precentor  caught 
the  tune  and  tried  to  lead,  but  Uncle  Jimmie's  voice  soared 
over  him  with  the  rapture  of  a  lark  and  the  shriek  of  an 
eagle,  two  or  three  more  pair  of  hands  clapped  time,  the 
other  Suez  pastor  took  a  trochee,  and  the  four  preachers 
filed  down  from  the  high  pulpit,  singing  as  they  came. 
Garnet  began  to  pace  to  and  fro  in  front  of  it  and  to 
exhort  in  the  midst  of  the  singing. 

"  Who  is  on  the  Lord's  side  ?  "  he  loudly  demanded. 

"  Should  my  tears  forever  flow,"  sang  the  standing 
throng. 

But  no  one  advanced. 

"  Should  my  zeal  no  respite  know,"  they  sang  on,  and 
Garnet's  "Whosoever  will,  let  him  come,"  and  other 
calls  swept  across  their  chant  like  the  crash  of  falling 
trees  across  the  roar  of  a  torrent. 

"  Oh,  my  brother,  two  men  shall  be  in  the.  field  ;  the 
one  shall  be  taken  and  the  other  left ;  which  one  will 
you  be  ?  Come,  my  weary  sister ;  come,  my  sin-laden 


JOHN  HEADS  A  PROCESSION  249 

brother.  O,  come  unto  the  marriage !  Now  is  the 
accepted  time!  The  clock  of  God's  patience  has  run 
down  and  is  standing  at  Now !  Sing  the  last  verse 
again,  Uncle  Jimmie!  This  night  thy  soul  may  be 
required  of  thee  !  Two  women  shall  be  grinding  to 
gether  ;  the  one  shall  be  taken,  the  other  left.  O,  my 
sweet  sister,  come !  be  the  taken  one  ! — flee  as  a  bird  ! 
The  angel  is  troubling  the  pool ;  who  will  first  come  to 
the  waters  ?  O,  my  unknown,  yet  beloved  brother, 
whoever  you  are,  don't  you  know  that  whosoever  comes 
first  to-night  will  lead  a  hundred  others  and  will  win  a 
crown  with  that  many  stars  ?  Come,  brethren,  sisters, 
we're  losing  priceless  moments  !  " 

Why  does  no  one  move?     Because  just  in  the  middle 
of  the  house,  three  seats  behind  that  fair  girl  whose  face  -^ 
has  sunk  into  her  hands,  sits,  with  every  eye  on  them, 
the   wan  missionary   from    China,  pleading  with  John 
March. 

Parson  Tombs  saw  the  chance  for  a  better  turn  of 
affairs.  "  Brethren,"  he  cried,  kneeling  as  he  spoke, 
"  let  us  pray !  And  as  our  prayers  ascend  if  any  sinner 
feels  the  dew  o'  grace  fall  into  his  soul,  let  him  come 
forward  and  kneel  with  the  Lord's  ministers.  Brother 
Samuel  Messenger,  lead  us  in  prayer  !  " 

The  missionary  prayed.  But  the  footfall  for  which 
all  waited  did  not  sound  ;  the  young  man  who  knelt 
beside  the  supplicant,  with  temples  clutched  in  his 
hands,  moved  not.  While  the  missionary's  amen  wras 
yet  unspoken,  Parson  Tombs,  still  kneeling,  began  to 
ask  aloud, 

"  Will  Brother  Garnet " 


250  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

But  Garnet  was  wiser.  "Father  Tombs,"  he  cried 
"the  Lord  be  with  you,  lead  us  in  prayer  yourself!  " 

"  Amen  !  "  cried  the  other  pastor.  He  was  echoed 
by  a  dozen  of  his  flock,  and  the  old  man  lifted  his  voice 
in  tremulous  invocation.  The  prayer  was  long.  But 
before  there  were  signs  of  it  ending,  the  step  for  which 
so  many  an  ear  was  strained  had  been  heard.  Men 
were  groaning,  "  God  be  praised  !  "  and  "  Hallelujah  !  " 
Fanuie's  eyes  were  wet,  tears  were  welling  through 
Barbara's  fingers,  mourners  were  coming  up  both  aisles, 
and  John  March  was  kneeling  in  the  anxious  seat. 


XLIII. 
ST.  VALENTINE'S  DAY 

ONE  morning  some  six  weeks  after  New  Year's  eve 
Garnet's  carriage  wheels  dripped  water  and  mud  as  his 
good  horses  dragged  them  slowly  into  the  borders  of 
Suez.  The  soft,  moist  winds  of  February  were  ruffling 
the  turbid  waters  of  Turkey  Creek  and  the  swollen  flood 
of  the  Swanee.  A  hint  of  new  green  brightened  every 
road-side,  -willows  were  full  of  yellow  light,  and  a  pink 
and  purple  flush  answered  from  woods  to  fence-row,  from 
fence-row  to  woods,  across  and  across  the  three  counties. 

"  This  pike's  hardly  a  pike  at  all  since  the  railroad's 
started,"  said  the  Major,  more  to  himself  than  to  Barbara 
and  Johanna ;  for  these  were  the  two  rear  occupants  of 
the  carriage. 


5 T.    VA LEN TINE ^ S  DAY  251 

"  Barb,  I  got  a  letter  from  Fair  last  night.  You  did 
too,  didii't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  He'll  be  here  next  week.  He  says  he  can't  stop 
with  us  this  time." 

Barbara  was  silent,  and  felt  the  shy,  care-taking 
glance  of  her  maid.  Garnet  spoke  again,  in  the 
guarded  tone  she  knew  so  well. 

"  I  reckon  you  understand  he's  only  coming  to  see  if 
he'll  take  stock  in  this  land  company  we're  getting  up, 
don't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Doe  she  know  you're  going  to  spend  these  two  weeks 
at  Halliday's  before  you  go  North  ?  " 

"  I  think  he  does." 

The  questioner  turned  enough  to  make  a  show  of 
frowning  solicitude.  "  What's  the  matter  with  you  this 
morning  ?  sad  at  the  thought  of  leaving  home  ?  " 

"  No,  sir  " — the  speaker  smiled  meditatively — "  we 
only  don't  hit  on  a  subject  of  interest  to  both." 

The  father  faced  to  front  again  and  urged  the  horses. 
He  even  raised  the  whip,  but  let  it  droop.  Then  he 
turned  sharply  and  drew  his  daughter's  glance.  "  Is 
Fair  going  to  stay  with  John  March  ?  " 

They  sat  gaze  to  gaze  while  their  common  blood  surged 
up  to  his  brows  and  more  gradually  suffused  her  face. 
Without  the  stir  of  an  eyelash  she  let  her  lips  part  enough 
to  murmur,  "  Yes." 

Before  her  word   was  finished  Garnet's   retort   was 

bursting  from  him,  "  Thanks  to  you,  you  intermeddling 

He  was  cut  short  by  the  lurch  of  the  carriage 


252  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

into  a  hole.  It  flounced  him  into  the  seat  from  which  he 
had  half  started  and  faced  him  to  the  horses.  With  a 
smothered  imprecation  he  rose  and  laid  on  the  whip. 
They  plunged,  the  carriage  sprang  from  the  hole  and 
ploughed  the  mire,  and  Garnet  sat  down  and  drove  into 
the  town's  main  avenue,  bespattered  with  mud  from 
head  to  waist. 

Near  the  gate  of  the  Academy  grounds  stood  Parson 
Tombs  talking  to  a  youth  in  Kosemont  uniform.  The 
student  passed  on,  and  the  pastor,  with  an  elated  face, 
waved  a  hand  to  Garnet.  Garnet  stopped  and  the 
Parson  came  close. 

"  Brother  Tombs,  howdy  ?  " 

"  Why,  howdy-do,  Brother  Garnet  ?— Miss  Barb  !— 
Johanna."  He  pointed  covertly  at  the  departing  youth 
and  murmured  to  Garnet,  "He'll  make  ow  fo'teenth 
convert  since  New  Year's.  And  still  there  is  room  ! 
—Well,  brother,  I've  been  a-hearin'  about  John 
March's  an'  yo'-all's  Ian'  boom,  but  " — the  good  man 
giggled — "  I  never  see  a  case  o'  measles  break  out  finer 
than  the  Ian'  business  is  broke  out  on  you  ! — And  you 
don't  seem  to  mind  it  no  mo'n — Look  here !  air  you  a 
miracle  o'  grace,  aw  what  air  you  ?  " 

"  Why,  nothing,  Brother  Tombs,  nothing !  Nothing 
but  an  old  soldier  who's  learned  that  serenity's  always 
best." 

The  Parson  turned  to  Barbara  and  cast  a  doting 
smile  sidewise  upon  the  old  soldier.  But  Garnet  set  his 
face  against  flattery  and  changed  the  subject. 

"  Brother  Tombs,  speaking  of  John  March,  you  know 
how  risky  it  is  for  anybody — unless  it's  you — to  say 


ST.    VALENTINE'S  DAY  253 

anything  to  him.  Oh,  I  dare  say  he's  changed,  but 
when  he  hasn't  been  converted  two  months,  nor  a  mem 
ber  of  the  church  three  weeks,  we  mustn't  expect  him  to 
have  the  virtues  of  an  old  Christian." 

"He's  changed  mo'n  I'm  at  libbety  to  tell  you, 
Brother  Garnet.  He's  renounced  dancing." 

"  Yes  ? — Indeed  !  He's  quit  dancing.  But  still  he 
carries  two  revolvers." 

"  Why,  Brother  John  Wesley,  I— that's  so.  I've 
spoke  to  John  about  that,  but — the  fact  is — 

Garnet  smiled.  "His  life's  in  constant  danger — 
that's  my  very  point.  The  bad  weather's  protected 
him  thus  far,  but  if  it  should  last  five  years  without  a 
break,  still  you  know  that  as  soon  as  it  fairs  off ' 

"  C/y  co'se !  Enos's  kinsfolks  '11  be  layin'  faw  him 
behind  some  bush  aw  sett'n'  fire  to  his  house ;  an'  so 
what  shall  he  do,  brother,  if  we  say  he " 

"  Oh,  let  him  shoot  a  Yahoo  or  two  if  he  must,  but  I    / 
think  you  ought  to  tell  him  he's  committing  a  criminal 
folly  in  asking  that  young  Yankee,  Mr.  Fair,  to  stop 
with   him    at   Widewood   when    he    comes   here   next 
week ! " 

"  Why,  Brother  Garnet !  Why,  supposin'  that 
young  stranger  should  get  shot !  " 

"  Yes,  or  if  he  should  no  more  than  see  March  shot 
or  shot  at !  What  an  impression  he'd  carry  back-~L 
North  with  him  !  It's  an  outrage  on  our  whole  people, 
sir,  and  God  knows! — I  speak  reverently,  my  dear 
brother — we've  suffered  enough  of  that  sort  of  slander ! 
I'd  tell  him,  myself,  but — this  must  be  between  us,  of 
course " 


254  JOHN  MARCH,   SOUTHERNER 

"Why,  of  co'se,  Brother  Garnet,"  murmured  the 
Pastor  and  bent  one  ear. 

"  It's  a  pure  piece  of  selfish  business  rivalry  on  John's 
part  toward  me.  He's  asked  Fair  to  his  house  simply 
to  keep  him  away  from  Rosemont." 

"Why,  Brother  Garnet!  Rosemont's  right  where 
he'd  ought  to  go  to  !" 

"  In  John's  own  interest !  "  said  Garnet. 

"In  John's — you're  right,  my  brother!  I'm  sup- 
prised  he  don't  see  it  so  !  " 

"O — I'm  not!  He's  a  terribly  overrated  chap, 
Brother  Tombs.  Fact  is — I  say  it  in  the  sincerest 
friendship  for  him — John's  got  no  real  talents  and  not 
much  good  sense — though  one  or  two  of  his  most  med 
dlesome  friends  have  still  less."  The  Major  began  to 
gather  up  the  reins. 

"  Well,  I'll  try  to  see  him,  Brother  Garnet.  I  met 
him  yeste'day — Look  here !  I  reckon  that  young  man's 
not  goin'  to  stop  with  him  after  all.  He  told  me 
yeste'day  he  was  going  to  put  a  friend  into  Swanee 
Hotel  because  Sisteh  March  felt  too  feeble,  aw  fearful, 
aw  somethin',  an'  he  felt  bound  to  stand  his  expenses." 

"  And  so  he  " — the  Major  paused  pleasantly.  "  How 
much  did  you  lend  him  ? " 

"  Aw  !  Brother  Garnet,  I  didn't  mean  you  to  knoAV 
that !  He  had  to  put  shuttehs  on  his  sitt'n'-room  win 
dows,  too,  you  know,  to  quiet  Sisteh  March's  ve'y  natu'al 
fears.  I  only  promised  to  lend  him  a  small  amount 
if  he  should  need  it." 

"O,  he'll  need  it,"  said  the  Major,  and  included 
Barbara  in  his  broad  smile.  "Still,  I  hope  you'll  let 


ST.   VALENTINE'S:  EVENING  255 

him  have  it.  If  he  doesn't  return  it  to  you  I  will ;  I 
loved  his  father.  John  should  have  come  to  me, 
Brother  Tombs,  as  he's  always  done.  I  say  this  to  you 
privately,  you  know.  I'll  consider  the  loan  practically 
made  to  me,  for  we  simply  can't  let  Fair  go  to  Wide- 
wood,  even  if  John  puts  shutters  on  all  his  windows." 

Again  the  speaker  lifted  his  reins  and  the  Parson 
drew  back  with  a  bow  to  Barbara,  when  Johanna  spoke 
and  the  whole  group  stared  after  two  townward-bound 
horsemen. 

"Those  are  mountain  people,  right  now,"  said  the 
Parson. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Garnet,  "  but  they're  no  kin  to  Enos." 
He  moved  on  to  Halliday's  gate. 

It  was  the  fourteenth  of  the  month.  The  Major 
stayed  in  town  for  the  evening  mail  and  drove  home 
after  dark,  alone,  but  complacent,  almost  jovial.  He 
had  got  three  valentines. 


XLIV. 
ST.  VALENTINE'S  :  EVENING 

AT  Widewood  that  same  hour  there  was  deep  silence. 
Since  the  first  of  the  year  the  only  hands  left  on  the 
place  were  a  decrepit  old  negro  and  wife,  whom  even  he 
pronounced  "wtithless,"  quartered  beyond  the  stable- 
yard's  farther  fence.  For  some  days  this  "  lady " 
had  been  Widewood's  only  cook,  owing  to  the  fact  that 


256      JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

Mrs.  March's  servant,  having  a  few  nights  before  seen  a 
man  prowling  about  the  place,  had  left  in  such  a  panic 
as  almost  to  forget  her  wage?,  and  quite  omitting  to 
leave  behind  her  several  articles  of  the  Widewood  wash 
ing. 

Within  the  house  John  March  sat  reading  newspapers. 
His  healthy  legs  were  crossed  toward  the  flickering 
hearth,  and  his  strong  shoulders  touched  the  centre- 
table  lamp.  The  new  batten  shutters  excluded  the 
beautiful  outer  night.  His  mother,  to  whom  the  mail 
had  brought  nothing,  was  sitting  in  deep  shadow,  her 
limp  form  and  her  regular  supply  of  disapproving  ques 
tions  alike  exhausted.  Her  slender  elbow  slipped  now 
and  then  from  the  arm  of  her  rocking-chair,  and  uncon 
scious  gleams  of  incredulity  and  shades  of  grief  still 
alternated  across  her  face  with  every  wrinkling  effort  of 
her  brows  to  hold  up  her  eyelids. 

John  was  not  so  absorbed  as  he  seemed.  He  felt 
both  the  silence  and  the  closed  shutters  drearily,  and 
was  not  especially  cheered  by  the  following  irrelevant 
query  in  the  paragraph  before  him : 

"Who — having  restored  the  sight  of  his  jailer's  blind 
daughter  and  converted  her  father  from  idolatry — was  on  this 
day  beheaded  1 " 

Yet  here  was  a  chance  to  be  pleasant  at  the  expense 
of  a  man  quite  too  dead  to  mind. 

"  Mother,"  he  began,  so  abruptly  that  Mrs.  March 
started  with  a  violent  shudder,  "  this  is  February  four 
teenth.  Did  any  ancient  person  of  your  acquaintance 
lose  his  head  to-day?"  He  turned  a  facetious  glance 


S7\    VALENTINE'S:   EVENING  257 

that  changed  in  an  instant  to  surprise.  His  mother  had 
straightened  up  with  bitter  indignation,  but  she  softened 
to  an  agony  of  reproach  as  she  cried : 

"John!" 

"  Why,  mother,  what  ?  " 

"Ah!  John!  John!"  She  gazed  at  him  tearfully. 
"  Is  this  what  you've  joined  the  church  for?  "  To  cloak 
such " 

"My  dear  mother!  I  was  simply  trying  to  joke 
away  the  dismals  !  Why," — he  smiled  persuasively — 
"  if  you  only  knew  what  a  hard  job  it  is."  But  the 
ludicrousness  of  her  misconstruction  took  him  off  his 
guard,  and  in  spite  of  the  grimmest  endeavor  to  prevent 
it,  his  smile  increased  and  he  stopped  to  keep  from 
laughing. 

Mrs.  March  rose,  eloquent  with  unspoken  resentment, 
and  started  from  the  room.  At  the  door  she  cast  back 
the  blush  of  a  martyr's  forgiveness,  and  the  next  instant 
was  in  her  son's  big  right  arm.  His  words  were  broken 
with  laughter. 

"  My  dear,  pretty  little  mother !  "  She  struggled 
alarmedly,  but  he  held  her  fast.  "  Why,  I  know  the 
day  is  nothing  to  you,  dear,  less  than  nothing.  I 
know  perfectly  well  that  I  am  your  own  and  only  val 
entine.  Ain't  I?  Because  you're  mine  now,  you 
know,  since  I've  turned  over  this  new  leaf." 

The  mother  averted  her  face.  "O  my  son,  I'm  so 
unused  to  loving  words,  they  only  frighten  me." 

But  John  spoke  on  with  deepening  emotion.  "  Yes, 
mother,  I'm  going  to  be  your  valentine,  and  yours  only, 
as  I've  never  been  or  thought  of  being  in  all  my  life 


258  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

before.  I'm  going  to  try  my  very  best !  You'll  help 
me,  won't  you,  little  valentine  mother  ?  " 

She  lifted  a  glance  of  mournful  derision.  "Valentine 
me  no  valentines.  You  but  increase  my  heart-loneli 
ness.  Ah !  my  self-deluded  boy,  your  fickle  pledges 
only  mean,  to  my  sad  experience,  that  you  have  made 
your  own  will  everything,  and  my  wish  nothing.  Val 
entine  me  no  valentines,  let  me  go." 

The  young  man  turned  abruptly  and  strode  back  to 
his  newspapers.  But  he  was  too  full  of  bitterness  to 
read.  He  heard  his  mother's  soft  progress  up-stairs, 
and  her  slow  step  in  the  unlighted  room  overhead.  It 
ceased.  She  must  have  sat  down  in  the  dark.  A  few 
moments  passed.  Then  it  sounded  again,  but  so  strange 
and  hurried  that  he  started  up,  and  as  he  did  so  the  cry 
came,  frantic  with  alarm,  from  the  upper  hall,  and  then 
from  the  head  of  the  stairs  : 

"  John  !  John  !  " 

He  w7as  already  bounding  up  them.  Mrs.  March 
stood  at  the  top,  pale  and  trembling.  "A  man!  "  she 
cried,  "  with  a  gun  !  I  saw  him  down  in  the  moon 
light  under  my  wrindow !  I  saw  him !  he's  got  a 
gun!" 

She  was  deaf  and  blind  to  her  son's  beseechings  to  be 
quiet.  He  caught  her  hands  in  his ;  they  were  icy. 
He  led  her  by  gentle  force  down-stairs  and  back  to  her 
sitting-room  seat. 

"  Why,  that's  all  right,  mother ;  that's  what  you 
made  me  put  the  shutters  on  down  here  for.  If  you'd 
just  come  and  told  me  quietly,  why,  I  might  a'  got  him 
from  your  window.  Did  you  see  him  ?  " 


ST.    VALENTINE'S:   EVENING  259 

"I  don't  know,"  she  moaned.  "He  had  a  gun.  I 
saw  one  end  of  it." 

"  Are  you  sure  it  was  a  gun  ?  Which  end  did  you 
see,  the  butt  or  the  muzzle  ?  " 

Mrs.  March  only  gasped.  She  was  too  refined  a 
woman  to  mention  either  end  of  a  gun  by  name.  "  I 
saw — the — front  end." 

"  He  didn't  aim  it  at  you,  or  at  anything,  did  he  ? " 

"  No — yes — he  aimed  it — sidewise." 

"  Sideways !  Now,  mother,  there  I  draw  the  line  ! 
No  man  shall  come  around  here  aiming  his  gun  side 
ways  ;  endangering  the  throngs  of  casual  bystanders !  " 

"  Ah !  John,  is  this  the  time  to  make  your  captive 
and  beleaguered  mother  the  victim  of  ribald  jests  ?  " 

"  My  dear  mother,  no !  it's  a  time  to  go  to  bed.  If 
that  fellow's  still  nosing  'round  here  with  his  gun 
aimed  sideways  he's  protection  enough !  But  seriously, 
mother,  whatever  you  mean  by  being  embargoed  and 
blockaded " 

"  I  did  not  say  embargoed  and  blockaded !  " 

"Why,  my  dear  mother,  those  were  your  very 
words !  " 

"  They  were  not !  They  were  not  my  words !  And 
yet,  alas  !  how  truly She  turned  and  wept. 

"  O  Lord  !  mother— 

"  My  son,  you've  broken  the  second  commandment !  " 

"  It  was  already  broke  !  O  for  heaven's  sake,  mother, 
don't  cave  in  in  this  hysterical  way  !  " 

The  weeper  whisked  round  with  a  face  of  wild  be 
seeching.  "  O,  my  son,  call  me  anything  but  that ! 
Call  me  weak  and  credulous,  too  easily  led  and  misled ! 


260  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

Call  me  too  poetical  and  confiding!  I  know  I'm  more 
lonely  than  I  dare  tell  my  own  son !  But  I'm  not — 
Oho  !  I'm  not  hysterical !  "  she  sobbed. 

So  it  continued  for  an  hour.  Then  the  lamp  gave 
out  and  they  went  to  bed. 

The  next  morning  John  drove  his  mother  to  Suez  for 
a  visit  of  several  days  among  her  relatives,  and  rode  on 
into  Blackland  to  see  if  he  could  find  "  a  girl "  for 
Widewood.  He  spent  three  days  and  two  nights  at 
these  tasks,  stopping  while  in  Blackland  with — whom 
would  you  suppose  ?  Proudfit,  for  all  the  world !  He 
took  an  emphatic  liking  to  the  not  too  brainy  colonel, 
and  a  new  disrelish  to  his  almost  too  sparkling  wife. 

As,  at  sunset  of  the  third  day,  he  again  drew  near 
Suez  and  checked  his  muddy  horse's  gallop  at  Swanee 
River  Bridge,  his  heart  leaped  into  his  throat.  He 
hurriedly  raised  his  hat,  but  not  to  the  transcendent 
beauties  of  the  charming  scene,  unless  these  were  Fannie 
Halliday  and  Barbara  Garnet. 


XLV. 

A    LITTLE    VOYAGE    OF    DISCOVERIES 

FOR  two  girls  out  on  a  quiet  stroll,  their  arms  about 
each  other  and  their  words  murmurous,  not  any  border 
of  Suez  was  quite  so  alluring  as  the  woods  and  waters 
seen  from  the  parapet  of  this  fine  old  stone  bridge. 


A  LITTLE   VOYAGE  OF  DISCOVERIES      261 

The  main  road  from  Blackland  crossed  here.  As  it 
reached  the  Suez  side  it  made  a  strong  angle  under  the 
town's  leafy  bluffs  and  their  two  or  three  clambering 
by-streets,  and  ran  down  the  rocky  margin  of  the  stream 
to  the  new  railway  station  and  the  old  steamboat  land 
ing  half  a  mile  below.  The  bridge  was  entirely  of  rug 
ged  gray  limestone,  and  spanned  the  river's  channel  and 
willow-covered  sand-bars  in  seven  high,  rude  arches. 
One  Christmas  dawn  during  the  war  a  retreating  enemy, 
making  ready  to  blow  up  the  structure,  were  a  moment 
too  slow,  and  except  for  the  scars  of  a  few  timely  shells 
dropped  into  their  rear  guard,  it  had  come  through 
those  years  unscathed.  For,  just  below  it,  and  prefer 
able  to  it  most  of  the  year,  was  a  broad  gravelly  ford. 
Beyond  the  bridge,  on  the  Blackland  side,  the  road 
curved  out  of  view  between  woods  on  the  right  and 
meadows  on  the  left.  A  short  way  up  the  river  the 
waters  came  dimpling,  green  and  blue  in  August,  but 
yellow  and  swirling  now,  around  the  long,  bare  foot  of 
a  wooded  island,  that  lay  forever  asleep  in  midstream, 
overrun  and  built  upon  by  the  winged  Liliputians  of 
the  shores  jand  fields. 

The  way  down  to  this  spot  from  the  Halliday  cottage 
was  a  grassy  street  overarched  with  low-branching  ever 
green  oaks,  and  so  terraced  that  the  trees  at  times 
robbed  the  view  of  even  a  middle  distance.  It  was  by 
this  way  that  Fannie  and  Barbara  had  come,  with 
gathered  skirts,  picking  dainty  zigzags  where,  now  and 
then,  the  way  was  wet.  The  spirit  of  spring  was  in  the 
lightness  of  their  draperies'  texture  and  dyes — only 
a  woman's  eye  would  have  noticed  that  Barbara  was  in 


262  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

mourning — and  their  broken  talk  was  mainly  on  a  plan 
for  the  celebration,  on  the  twenty-second,  not  of  any 
great  and  exceptionally  truthful  patriot's  birthday — 
Captains  Champion  and  Shotwell  were  seeing  to  that — 
but  of  Parson  Tombs's  and  his  wife's  golden  wedding. 

When  John  March  saw  them,  they  had  just  been 
getting  an  astonishing  amount  of  amusement  out  of  the 
simple  fact  that  Miss  Mary  Salter  and  the  younger 
pastor  were  the  committee  on  decorations.  They  were 
standing  abreast  the  bridge's  parapet,  the  evening  air 
stirring  their  garments,  watching  the  stern-wiieeler, 
Launcelot  Halliday,  back  out  from  the  lauding  below 
into  the  fretting  current  for  a  trip  down  stream.  John 
had  always  approved  this  companionship  ;  it  had  tended 
to  sustain  his  old  illusion  that  Fannie's  extra  years  need 
not  count  between  her  and  him.  But  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  them  together  now  was  but  a  flash  and  was  gone, 
for  something  else  than  extra  years  was  counting, 
which  had  never  counted  before.  He  had  turned  over 
a  new  leaf,  as  he  said.  On  it  he  had  subscribed  with 
docile  alacrity  to  every  ancient  grotesqueness  in  Parson 
Tombs's  science  of  God,  sin,  and  pardon  ;  and  then  had 
stamped  Fannie's  picture  there,  fondly  expecting  to 
retain  it  by  the  very  simple  trick  of  garlanding  it 
round  with  the  irrefragable  proposition  that  love  is  the 
fulfilling  of  the  law !  But  not  many  days  had  the  leaf 
been  turned  when  a  new  and  better  conscience  awoke 
to  find  shining  there,  still  wet  from  God's  own  pen,  the 
corollary  that  only  a  whole  sphere  of  love  can  fulfil  the 
law's  broad  circumference. 

As  Fannie  and  Barbara  made  their  bow  and  moved 


A  LITTLE    VOYAGE  OF  DISCOVERIES      263 

to  pass  on  he  hurriedly  raised  his  hat  and  his  good 
horse  dropped  into  a  swift,  supple  walk.  The  bridle 
hand  started  as  if  to  draw  in,  but  almost  at  the  same 
instant  the  animal  sprang  again  into  a  gait  which 
showed  the  spur  had  touched  her,  and  was  quickly  out 
of  hearing. 

"Barb,"  murmured  Fannie,  "you're  thinking  he's 
improved." 

"Yes,  only " 

"  Only  you  think  he'd  have  stopped  if  he'd  seen 
us  sooner.  Why  can't  you  think  maybe  he  wouldn't  ? 
But  you're  not  to  blame ;  you  simply  have  a  girl's 
natural  contempt  for  a  boy's  love.  Well,  a  boy's  love 
is  silly ;  but  when  you  see  the  constant  kind,  like 
John's,  as  sure  as  you  live  there  are  not  many  things 
entitled  to  higher  respect.  O  Barb !  I've  never  felt  so 
honored  by  any  other  love  that  man  ever  offered  me. 
He'll  get  over  it,  completely.  I  believe  it's  dying  now, 
though  it's  dying  hard.  But  the  next  time  he  loves, 
the  girl  who  treats  his  love  lightly — Let's  go  down  in 
these  woods  and  look  for  hepaticas.  John  can't  bring 
them  to  me  any  more  and  Jeff-Jack  never  did.  He 
sends  candy.  There's  homage  in  a  wild  flower,  Barb ; 
but  candy,  oh — I  don't  know — it  makes  me  ashamed." 

"  Why  don't  you  tell  him  so  ?  " 

Fannie  leaned  close  and  whispered,  "  I'm  afraid." 

"Why,  he  gave  me  wild  flowers,  once." 

"When?  Who?"  The  black  eyes  flashed.  "When 
did  he  ever  give  you  flowers  ?  " 

"  When  I  was  five  years  old."  They  turned  down  a 
short  descent  into  the  woods. 


264  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

Fannie  smiled  pensively.  "Barb,  did  you  notice 
that  John— 

"  Has  been  trading  again  !  His  love's  not  very  con 
stant  as  to  horses." 

"  But  what  a  pretty  mare  he's  got !  Barb,  'pon  my 
word,  when  John  March  is  well  mounted,  I  do  think, 
physically,  he's —  The  speaker  hearkened.  From 
the  low  place  where  they  stood  her  eyes  were  on  a  level 
with  the  road.  "  It's  him  again  ;  let's  hide." 

March  came  loping  down  from  the  bridge,  slackened 
pace,  and  swept  with  his  frowning  glance  the  meadows 
on  the  left.  Then  he  moved  along  the  edge  of  the  wood 
searching  its  sunset  lights  and  glooms,  and  presently 
turned  down  into  them,  bending  under  the  low  boughs. 
And  then  he  halted,  burning  with  sudden  resentment 
before  the  smiling,  black-eyed  girl  wrho  leaned  against 
the  tree,  which  had  all  at  once  refused  to  conceal  her. 

Neither  spoke.  Fannie's  eyes  were  mocking  and  yet 
kind,  and  the  resentment  in  John's  turned  to  a  purer 
mortification.  A  footstep  rustled  behind  him  and 
Barbara  said : 

"We're  looking  for  wild  flowers.  Do  you  think 
we're  too  early  ?  " 

"  No,  I  could  have  picked  some  this  afternoon  if  I'd 
felt  like  it,  but  it's  a  sort  o'  belief  with  me  that  nobody 
ought  to  pick  wild  flowers  for  himself — ha-ha-ha  !  — Oh 
eh,  Miss  Garnet,  I  reckon  I  owe  you  an  apology  for 
charging  down  on  you  this  way,  but  I  just  happened  to 
think,  after  I  passed  you,  that  you  could  tell  me  where 
to  find  your  father.  He's  president  pro  tern,  of  our  land 
company,  you  know,  and  I  want  to  consult  him  with 


A  LITTLE   VOYAGE  OF  DISCOVERIES 

Mr.  Gamble — you  know  Mr.  Gamble,  don't  you? — 
president  of  [  the  railroad  ?  O  !  of  course  you  do ! 
Well,  he's  our  vice-president." 

"  Why,  no,  Mr.  March,  I  don't  know  where  you'll 
find  pop-a  right  now.  I  might  possibly  know  when  I 
get  back  to  the  house.  If  it's  important  I  could  send 
you  word." 

"  0  no !  O  no  !  Not  at  all !  I'll  find  him  easily 
enough.  I  hope  you'll  both  pardon  me,  Miss  Fannie, 
but  it  seems  as  if  I  learned  some  things  pow'ful  slow.  I 
oilght  to  know  by  this  time  when  two's  company  and 
three's  a  crowd." 

Before  he  had  finished,  the  two  listeners  had  seen  the 
remoter  significance  of  his  words,  and  it  was  to  mask 
this  that  Barbara  drawled — 

"  Why,  Mr.  March,  that's  not  nice  of  you !  " 

But  the  young  man's  confusion  was  sufficient  apology, 
and  both  girls  beamed  kindly  on  him  as  he  presently 
took  his  leave  under  the  delusion  that  his  face  hid  his 
inward  mortification. 


266  JOHN  MA  R  CH,  SO  U  THERNER 


XLVI. 

A   PAIR   OF   SMUGGLERS 

A  SHORT  way  farther  within  the  wood  they  began 
to  find  flowers. 

"Well — yes,"  said  Fannie,  musingly.  "And  pop 
consented  to  be  treasurer  pro  tern.,  but  that  was  purely 
to  help  John.  You  know  he  fairly  loves  John.  They 
all  think  it'll  be  so  much  easier  to  get  Northern  capital 
if  they  can  show  they're  fully  organized  and  all  interests 
interested,  you  know."  She  stooped  to  pick  a  blossom. 
Barbara  was  bending  in  another  direction.  Two  doves 
alighted  on  the  ground  near  by  and  began  to  feed,  and, 
except  for  size,  the  four  would  have  seemed  to  an  on 
looker  to  have  been  very  much  of  a  kind. 

Presently  Fannie  spoke  again.  "  But  I  think  pop's 
more  and  more  distrustful  of  the  thing  every  day. 
Barb,  I  reckon  I'll  tell  you  something." 

Barbara  crouched  motionless.     "  Tell  on." 

"  O — well,  I  asked  pop  yesterday  what  he  thought  of 
this  Widewood  scheme  anyhow,  and  he  said,  'There's 
money  in  it  for  some  men.'  '  Well,  then,  why  can't 
you  be  one  of  them,'  I  asked  him,  and  said  he,  '  It's 
not  the  kind  of  money  I  want,  Fan.'  " 

"  O  pshaw,  Fannie,  men  are  always  saying  that  about 
one  another." 

"  Yes,"  murmured  Fannie. 

"  Fan,"    said  Barbara,  tenderly,    "  do   stop   talking 


A  PAIR  OF  SMUGGLERS  267 

that  way  ;  you  know  I'm  nearly  as  proud  of  your  father 
as  you  are,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sweetheart." 

"  Well,  then,  go  on,  dear." 

"  I  asked  him  if  John  was  one,"  resumed  Fannie,  "  and, 
said  he,  '  Xo,  I  shouldn't  be  a  bit  surprised  to  see  John 
lose  everything  he  and  his  mother  have  got.'  " 

Barbara  flinched  and  was  still  again.  "  Has  he  told 
him  that  ?  " 

"  No,  he  says  John's  a  very  hard  fellow  to  tell  any 
thing  to.  And,  you  know,  Barb,  that's  so.  I  used  to 
could  tell  him  things,  but  I  mustn't  even  try  now." 

"Why,  Fan,  you  don't  reckon  Mr.  Ravenel  would 
care,  do  you  ? " 

"Barb,  I'll  never  know  how  much  he  cares  about 
anything  till  it's  too  late.  You  can't  try  things  on 
Jeff-Jack." 

"  I  wish,"  softly  said  Barbara,  "  you  wouldn't  smile  so 
much  like  him." 

"  Don't  say  anything  against  him,  Barb,  now  or  ever ! 
I'm  his  and  he's  mine,  and  I  wouldn't  for  both  worlds 
have  it  any  other  way."  But  this  time  the  speaker's 
smile  was  her  own  and  very  sweet.  The  two  returned  to 
the  road. 

"  I  asked  pop,"  said  Fannie,  "  where  Jeff- Jack  stands 
in  this  affair.  He  laughed  and  said,  '  Jeff- Jack  doesn't 
take  stands,  Fan,  he  lays  low.'  " 

"Somebody  ought  to  tell  him." 

"  Tell  who  ?  Oh,  John  ! — yes,  I  only  wish  to  gracious 
some  one  would  !  But  men  don't  do  that  sort  of  thing 
for  one  another.  If  a  man  takes  such  a  risk  as  that  for 


268  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

another  you  may  know  he  loves  him ;  and  if  a  woman 
takes  it  you  may  know  she  doesn't." 

"  Fan,"  said  Barbara,  as  they  locked  arms,  "  would  it 
do  for  me  to  tell  him  ?  " 

"  No,  my  dear ;  in  the  first  place  you  wouldn't  get  the 
chance.  You  can't  begin  to  try  to  tell  him  till  you've 
clean  circumgyrated  yourself  away  down  into  his  con 
fidence.  It's  a  job,  Barb,  and  a  bigger  one  than  you  can 
possibly  want.  Now,  if  we  only  knew  some  girl  of  real 
sense  who  was  foolish  enough  to  be  self-sacrificingly  in 
love  with  him — but  where  are  we  going  to  find  the  com 
bination  ?  " 

"  And  even  if  we  could,  you  say  no  woman  in  love 
with  a  man  would  do  it." 

"  There  are  exceptions,  sweet  Simplicity.  What  we 
want  is  an  exception !  Law,  Barb,  what  a  fine  game  a 
girl  of  the  true  stuff  could  play  in  such  a  case !  Not 
having  his  love  yet,  but  wanting  it  worse  than  life,  and 
yet  taking  the  biggest  chance  of  losing  it  for  the  chance 
of  saving  him  from  the  wreck  of  his  career.  O  see !  " 
They  stopped  on  the  bridge  again  to  watch  the  sun's 
last  beams  gilding  the  waters,  and  Barbara  asked, 

"  Do  you  believe  the  right  kind  of  a  girl  would  do 
that  ?  " 

«  Why,  if  she  could  do  it  without  getting  found  out, 
yes  !  Why,  Law,  I'd  have  done  it  for  Jeff-Jack  !  You 
see,  she  might  save  him  and  win  him,  too  ;  or  she  might 
win  him  even  if  she  tried  and  failed  to  save  him.  " 

"But  she  might,"  said  Barbara,  gazing  up  the  river, 
"  she  might  even  save  him  and  still  lose." 

"  Yes,  for  a  man  thinks  he's  doing  well  if  he  so  much 


A  PAIR  OF  SMUGGLERS  269 

as  forgives  a  deliverer — in  petticoats.  Yet  still,  Barb, 
wouldn't  a  real  woman  sooner  lose  by  saving  him,  than 
sit  still  and  let  him  lose  for  fear  she  might  lose  by  trying 
tt-  save  him?" 

"  I  don't  know ;  you  can't  imagine  mom-a  doing  such 
a  thing,  can  you  ?  " 

"  What !  Cousin  Rose  ?  Why,  of  all  women  she  was 
just  the  sort  to  have  done  it.  Barb,  you'd  do  it !  "  Fan 
nie  expected  her  friend  to  look  at  her  with  an  expres 
sion  of  complimented  surprise.  But  the  surprise  was  her 
own  when  Barbara  gave  a  faint  start  and  bent  lower 
over  the  parapet.  The  difference  was  very  slight,  as 
slight  as  the  smile  of  fond  suspicion  that  came  into  Fan- 
nie's  face. 

"  Fannie  " — still  looking  down  into  the  gliding  water 
— "  how  does  your  father  think  Mr.  March  is  going  to 
lose  so  much  ;  is  he  afraid  he'll  be  swindled  ?  " 

"  I  believe  he  is,  Barb." 

"  And  do  you  think  " — the  words  came  very  softly 
and  significantly — "  that  that  makes  it  any  special  mat 
ter  of  mine  that  he  should  be  warned  ?  " 

"Yes,  sweetheart,  I  do." 

"  Then  " — the  speaker  looked  up  with  distressed  re 
solve — "  I  must  do  what  I  can.  Will  you  help  me,  or 
let  me  help  you,  rather?" 

"  Yes,  either  way,  as  far  as  I  can."  They  moved  on 
for  a  moment.  Then  Barbara  stopped  abruptly,  looking 
much  amused.  "  There's  one  risk  you  didn't  count !  " 

"  What's  that  ?  " 

"  Why,  if  he  should  mistake  my  motive,  and " 

"  What  ?  suspect  you  of  being — 


270  JOHN  MA R CH,  SOU THERNER 

"A  girl  of  the  true  stuff !" 

"  O  but,  sweet,  bow  could  he?  " 

As  they  laughed  Fannie  generously  prepared  to  kee ') 
her  guess  to  herself,  and  to  imply,  still  more  broadb , 
that  all  she  imputed  to  her  friend  was  the  determinatio  a 
secretly  to  circumvent  a  father's  evil  designs. 

Barbara  roused  from  a  reverie.  "  I  know  who'll  help 
us,  Fan, — Mr.  Fair."  She  withstood  her  companion's 
roguish  look  with  one  of  caressing  gravity  until  the  com 
panion  spoke,  when  she  broke  into  a  smile  as  tranquil  as 
a  mother's. 

"  Barb,  Barb,  you  deep-dyed  villain  !  " 

The  only  reply  of  the  defendant — they  were  once  more 
in  the  shady  lane — was  to  give  her  accuser  a  touch  of 
challenge,  and  the  two  sprang  up  a  short  acclivity  to 
where  a  longer  vista  opened  narrowly  before  them.  But 
here,  as  if  rifles  had  been  aimed  at  them,  they  shrank  in 
stantly  downward.  For  in  the  dim  sylvan  light  two 
others  walked  slowly  before  them,  their  heads  hidden  by 
the  evergreen  branches,  but  their  feet  perfectly  authenti 
cated  and  as  instantly  identified.  One  pair  were  twos, 
one  were  elevens,  and  both  belonged  to  the  Committee 
on  Decorations.  An  arm  that  by  nature  pertained  unto 
the  elevens  was  about  the  waist  that  pertained  unto  the 
twos,  and  at  the  moment  of  discovery,  as  well  as  could 
be  judged  by  certain  sinuosities  of  lines  below,  there  was 
a  distance  between  the  two  pairs  of  lips  less  than  any 
assignable  quantity. 


LEVITICUS  271 

XLVII. 

LEVITICUS 

THE  two  maidens  were  still  laughing  as  they  re-entered 
their  gate.  Fannie  threw  an  arm  sturdily  around  her 
companion's  waist  and  sought  to  repeat  the  pantomime, 
but  checked  herself  at  the  sight  of  a  buggy  drawing 
near. 

It  was  old,  misshapen,  and  caked  with  wet  and  dry 
mud,  as  also  was  the  mule  which  drew  it.  In  the 
vehicle  sat  three  persons.  Two  were  negro  women. 
One  of  them — of  advanced  years — was  in  a  full  bloom  of 
crisp  calico  under  a  flaring  bonnet  which  must  have  long 
passed  its  teens.  The  other  was  young  and  very  black. 
She  wore  a  tawdry  hat  that  only  helped  to  betray  her 
general  slovenliness.  From  between  them  a  negro  man 
was  rising  and  dismounting.  A  wide-brimmed,  crackled 
beaver  rested  on  his  fluffy  gray  locks,  and  there  was  the 
gentleness  of  old  age  in  his  face. 

The  spring  sap  seemed  to  have  started  anew  in  the 
elder  woman's  veins.  She  tittered  as  she  scrambled  to 
rise,  and  when  the  old  man  offered  to  help  her,  she  eyed 
him  with  mock  scorn  and  waved  him  off. 

"  G'way  fum  me,  'Viticus  Wisdom  —  gallivantin' 
round  here  like  we  was  young  niggehs ! — Lawd  !  my 
time  is  come  I  cayn't  git  up ;  my  bones  dun  tuk  dis- 
yeh  shape  to  staay  !  " 

"  Come,  come !  "  said  the  husband,  in  an  undertone  of 


272  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

amiable  chiding  ;  and  the  buggy  gave  a  jerk  of  thankful 
relief  as  its  principal  burden  left  it  for  the  sidewalk,  dif 
fusing  the  sweet  smell  of  the  ironing-table. 

While  the  younger  woman  was  making  her  mincing 
descent,  Fanny  and  Barbara  came  toward  them  in  the 
walk. 

"  Miss  Halliday,"  said  Leviticus,  lifting  his  beaver  and 
bowing  across  the  gate,  "  in  response  to  yo?  invite  we — O 
bless  the  Lawd  my  soul !  is  that  my  little — Miss  Barb, 
is  that  you  ?  " 

Before  he  could  say  more  Virginia  threwr  both  hands 
high.  "  Faw  de  Lawd's  sake  !  "  She  thrust  her  husband 
aside.  "  G'way,  niggah  !  lemme  th'oo  dis-yeh  gate  'fo' 
I  go  ove'  it ! "  She  snatched  Barbara  to  her  bosom. 
'  Lawd,  honey !  Lawd,  honey !  Ef  anybody  'spec' 
you'  ole  Aunt  Fudjinny  to  stan'  off  an'  axe  her  baby 
howdy  dey  bettah  go  to  de  crazy  house !  Lawd  !  Lawd  ! 
dis  de  fus'  chance  I  had  to  hug  my  own  baby  since  I 
been  a  po'  ole  free  niggah  !  "  She  held  the  laughing  girl 
off  by  the  shoulders. 

"  Honey,  ef  it's  my  las'  ac',  I  " — she  snatched  her  close 
again,  kissed  one  cheek  twice  and  the  other  thrice,  and 
held  her  off  once  more  to  fix  upon  her  a  tearful,  ravish 
ing  gaze.  "  Lawd,  honey,  Johanna  done  tole  me  how 
you  growin'  to  favo'  my  sweet  Miss  Rose,  an'  I  see  it  at 
de  fun'l  when  I  can't  much  mo'n  speak  to  you,  an'  cry 
so  I  cayn't  hardly  see  you  ;  but  Lawd !  my  sweet  baby, 
dough  you  cayn't  neveh  supersede  her  in  good  looks,  you 
jess  as  quiet  an'  beautiful  as  de  sweet-potateh  floweh ! 

"  Howdy,  Miss  Fannie  ?  "  She  gave  her  hand  and 
courtesied. 


LE  VITICUS  273 

"  Howdy,  Uncle  Leviticus  ?  "  said  Barbara. 

The  old  man  lifted  his  hat  again,  bowed  very  low, 
and  looked  very  happy.  "  I'm  tol'able  well,  Miss  Barb, 
thank  the  Lawd,  an'  hope  an'  trus'  an'  pray  you're  of 
the  same  complexion."  Still  including  Barbara  in  his 
audience,  he  went  on  with  an  address  to  Fannie  already 
begun. 

"You  know,  Miss  Fannie,  yo'  letteh  say  fo'  Aunt 
Fudjinny  an'  me  to  come  the  twentieth — yass,  ma'am,  we 
understan' — but,  you  know,  Mr.  Mahch,  he  come  down 
an'  superscribe  faw  this  young — ah ' 

"  Girl,"  suggested  Barbara,  with  pretty  condescension  ; 
but  Fannie  covertly  trod  on  her  toe  and  said,  "  lady," 
with  a  twinkle  at  the  dowdy  maiden. 

"  P'ccisely !  "  responded  Leviticus  to  both  speakers  at 
once.  "  An'  Mr.  Mahch,  he  was  bereft  o'  any  way  to 
fetch  her  to  he's  maw  less'n  he  taken  her  up  behime  o' 
his  saddle,  an'  so  it  seem'  like  the  Lawd's  call  faw  us  to 
come  right  along  an'  bring  her  hencefah,  an'  then,  if 
she  an'  his  maw  fin'  theyse'ves  agreeable,  then  Mr. 
Mahch — which  his  buggy  happm  to  be  here  in  Suez — 
'How  to  give  her  his  transpotes  the  balance  o'  the  way 
to-morrow  in  hit." 

"  And  you  and  Aunt  Virginia  will  stay  through  the 
golden  wedding  as  our  chief  butler  and  chief  baker,  as  I 
wrote  you  ;  will  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  er,  eh  " — the  old  man  scratched  his  head — 
"  thass  the  question,  Miss  Fannie.  Thass  what  I  been 
a-revolvin',  an'  I  sees  two  views  faw  revolution.  On 
one  side  there  is  the  fittenness  o'  we  two  faw  this 
work." 


274  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

"  It's  glaring,"  mused  Fannie. 

"  Flagrant,"  as  gravely  suggested  Barbara. 

"  P'ecisely  !  Faw,  as  you  say  in  yo'  letteh,  we  two 
was  chief  butler  an'  chief  baker  to  they  wedd'n'  jess 
fifty  year'  ago,  bein'  at  that  time  hi-ud  out  to  'Squi' 
Usher — the  ole  'Squieh,  you  know — by  Miss  Rose' 
motheh,  which,  you  know,  Miss  Tomb'  she  was  a  Usher, 
daughteh  to  the  old  'Squi'  Usher,  same  as  she  is  still 
sisteh  to  the  present  'Squieh,  who  was  son  to  the  ole 
'Squieh,  his  father  an'  hern.  The  ole  'Squieh,  he  mar 
ried  a  Jasper,  an'  thass  how  come  the  Tombses  is  re 
motely  alloyed  to  the  Mahches  on  the  late  Jedge's  side, 
an'  to  you,  Miss  Barb,  on  Miss  Rose's  Montgomery  side, 
an'  in  these  times,  when  cooks  is  sca'ce  an'  butlehs  is 
yit  mo'  so,  it  seem  to  me — it  seem  to  me,  Miss  Fannie, 
like  yo'  letteh  was  a  sawt  o' — sawt  o' " 

"Macedonian  cry,"  said  Fannie. 

"Hark  from  the  Tombses,"  murmured  Barbara. 

"And  so  you'll  both  come  !  "  said  Fannie. 

"Why,  as  I  say,  Miss  Fannie,  thass  the  question,  fo' 
there's  the  care  o'  my  flock,  you  know." 

aDe  laymbs,"  put  in  Virginia,  "  de  laymbs  is  bleeds 
to  be  fed,  you  know,  Miss  Fannie,  evm  if  dey  is 
black." 

"  Yass,  ma'am,"  resumed  Leviticus ;  "  an'  if  we  speak 
o'  mere  yearthly  toys,  Fudjinia's  pigs  an'  chickens  has 
they  claims." 

"  Well,  whoever's  taking  care  of  them  now  can  keep 
on  till  the  twenty-second,  Uncle  Leviticus ;  and  as  for 
your  church,  you  can  run  down  there  Sunday  and  come 
right  back,  can't  you  ?  Why  can't  you  ? " 


LEVITICUS  275 

"Uncle  Leviticus,"  said  Barbara,  "we  expect,  of 
course,  to  pay  you  both,  you  know." 

"  Why,  of  course  !  "  said  Fannie,  "  you  understood 
that,  didn't  you  ?  " 

"Yass'm,  o'  co'se,"  interposed  Virginia,  quickly, 
while  Leviticus  drawled, 

"  O  the  question  o'  pay  is  seconda'y  ! — But  we'll  have 
to  accede,  Fudjinia  ;  they  can't  do  without  us." 

"  I  think,  Fannie,"  said  Barbara,  looking  very  busi 
ness-like,  "  we'd  better  have  them  name  their  price  and 
agree  to  it  at  once,  and  so  be  sure " 

"  Lawd,  honey !  "  cried  Virginia,  "  we  ain't  goin'  to 
ax  no  prices  to  you-all !  sufficiend  unto  de  price  is  de 
laboh  theyof,  an'  we  leaves  dat  to  yo'  generos'ty. 
Yass,  dass  right  where  we  proud  an'  joyful  to  leave  it 
— to  yo'  generos'ty." 

"  Well,  now,  remember,  the  Tombses  mustn't  know 
a  breath  about  this.  You'll  find  Johanna  in  the 
kitchen.  She'll  have  to  give  you  her  room  and 
sleep  on  the  floor  in  Miss  Barb's ;  she'll  be  glad  of 
the  excuse " 

"  Thaank  you,  Miss  Fannie,"  replied  Virginia,  with 
amiable  complacency,  "  but  we  'llowin'  to  soj'u'n  with 
friends  in  town." 

"  O,  indeed  !  Well " — Arrangements  for  a  later  con 
ference  were  made.  "  Good-evening.  I'm  glad  you're 
bringing  such  a  nice-looking  girl  to  Mrs.  March.  What 
is  her — what  is  your  name  ?  " 

"  Daaphne." 

"  What ! " 

"  Yass'm.     Mr.  Mahch  say  whiles  I  wuck  faw  he's 


276  JOHN  MA  R  CSS,  SO  U  THERNER 

maw  he  like  me  to  be  naame  Jaane,  but  my  fo'-true 
name's  Daaphne,  yass'm." 

"Barb,"  said  Fannie,  "I've  just  thought  of  something 
we  must  attend  to  in  the  house  at  once !  " 


XLVIII. 

DELILAH 

DAPHNE  JANE  was  one  of  Leggettstown's  few  social 
successes.  She  was  neither  comely  nor  guileless,  but  she 
was  tremendously  smart.  Her  pious  parents  had  sent 
her  for  two  or  three  terms  to  the  "  Preparatory  Depart 
ment  "  of  Suez  University,  where  she  had  learned  to 
read,  write,  and  add — she  had  been  born  with  a  profi 
ciency  in  subtraction.  But  she  had  proved  flirtatious, 
and  her  father  and  mother  had  spent  their  later  school 
outlays  on  her  younger  brothers  and  sisters.  Daphne 
Jane  had  since  then  found  sufficient  and  glad  employ 
trying  to  pomatum  the  frizzles  out  of  her  hair,  and 
lounging  whole  hours  on  her  window-sill  to  show  the 
result  to  her  rivals  and  monopolize  and  cheer  the  pass 
ing  toiler  with  the  clatter  of  her  perky  wit  and  the  per 
fumes  of  bergamot  and  cinnamon. 

Cornelius  Leggett  had  easily  discovered  this  dark 
planet,  but  her  parents  were  honestly,  however  crudely, 
trying  to  make  their  children  better  than  their  betters 
expected  them  to  be,  and  they  forbade  him  the  house 
and  her  the  lonely  stroll. 


DELILAH  277 

The  daughter,  from  the  first  moment,  professed  to 
look  with  loathing  upon  the  much-married  and  prob 
ably  equally  widowed  Cornelius,  but  her  mother  did  not 
trust  her  chaste  shudderings.  When  John  March  came 
looking  for  a  domestic,  she  eagerly  arranged  to  put  her 
out  to  service  in  a  house  where,  Leviticus  assured  her, 
Cornelius  dared  not  bring  his  foot.  John  March,  how 
ever,  was  not  taken  into  this  confidence.  The  maid's 
quick  wit  was  her  strong  card,  and  even  Leviticus  did 
not  think  it  just  to  her  to  inform  a  master  or  mistress 
that  it  was  the  only  strong  card  she  held. 

So,  thanks  to  Leviticus,  the  only  man  in  Leggettstown 
who  would  stop  at  no  pains  to  "  suckumvent  wickedness 
in  high  places,"  here  she  was,  half-way  to  Widewood, 
and  thus  far  safe  against  any  unguessed  machinations 
of  the  enemy  or  herself.  In  Suez,  too,  all  went  well. 
Before  Mrs.  March  Jane  seemed  made  of  angelic 
"yass'ms,"  and  agreed,  with  a  strange,  sweet  readi 
ness  to  go  to  Widewood  and  assume  her  duties  in  her 
mistress's  absence,  which  would  be  for  a  few  days 
only. 

"And  you'll  go  "— "  yass'm  "— "  with  my  son"— 
"yass'm"— "in  the  buggy  "—" yass'm  "—"  and  begin 
work  " — "  yass'm  "  —  "just  as  though  " — "  yass'm  " — 
"I  were  there" — "yass'm."  Mrs.  March  added,  half 
to  herself,  half  to  her  son,  "I  find  Suez" — "yass'm" — 
"  more  lonely  than  " — "  yass'm  " — "  our  forest  home." 
"Yass'm" — said  the  black  damsel. 

John  was  delighted  with  such  undaunted  and  unself 
ish  alacrity.  He  was  only  sorry  not  to  take  her  home 
at  once,  but  reallv  this  business  with  Garnet  and  Gam- 


278  JOHN  MA  R  CII,  SO  U  THERNER 

ble  was  paramount.  It  kept  him  late,  and  the  next 
morning  was  well  grown  when  he  sought  his  mother  to 
say  that  he  could  now  take  Jane  to  Widewood. 

'•'My  son,  you  cannot.     It's  too  late." 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  my  dear  John." 

"  Where's  the  girl  ?  " 

"  On  the  way  to  her  field  of  labor." 

"  How  is  she  getting  there  ?  " 

"  In  our  buggy." 

"  You  haven't  let  her  drive  out  alone  ?  " 

"  My  son,  why  should  you  charge  me  with  both 
cruelty  and  folly  ?  " 

"  Who  took  her  out  ?  " 

"  One,  my  dear  boy,  who  I  little  thought  would  ever 
be  more  attentive  to  the  widow's  needs  than  her  own  son  : 
Cornelius  Leggett."  Mrs.  March  never  smiled  her  tri 
umphs.  Her  lips  only  writhed  under  a  pleasant  pain. 

"  Well,  I'll  be- 

"  Oh  !  " 

"  Why,  what,  mother  ?  I  was  only  going  to  say  I'll 
be  more  than  pleased  if  he  doesn't  steal  the  horse  and 
buggy.  I'll  bet  five  dollars " 

"  Oh  ! " 

"  O,  I  only  mean  I  don't  doubt  he's  half  ruined  both 
by  now,  and  all  to  save  a  paltry  hour." 

"  My  son,  it  is  not  mine  to  squander.  Ah  1  John, 
the  hours  are  not  ours !  " 

"Why,  what  are  they?  O!  I  see.  Well,  I  wish 
whoever  they  belong  to  would  come  take  'em  away !  " 

Cornelius  was  at  that  moment  rejoicing  that  this  one 


DELILAH  279 

was  peculiarly  his.  As  he  drove  along  the  quiet  Wide- 
wood  road  lie  was  remarking  to  his  charge  : 

"  I  arrove  fum  Pussy  on  the  six  o'clock  train.  One 
o'  the  fus  news  I  get  win'  of  is  that  you  in  town.  Well ! 
y'ought  to  see  me  !  " 

But  his  hearer  refused  to  be  flattered.  "  Wha'd  you 
do — run  jump  in  de  rivek  ?  " 

"  Jump  in — I  reckon  not !  I  flew.  Y'ought  to  see 
me  fly  to'a'ds  you,  sweet  lady  !  " 

The  maiden  laughed.  "  Law  !  Mr.  Leggett,  what  a 
shoo-fly  that  mus'  'a'  been !  Was  de  conducto'  ayfteh 
you  ? " 

Mr.  Leggett  smiled  undaunted.  "  My  mos'  num'ous 
thanks  to  yo'  serenity,  but  I  enjoys  fum  my  frien'  Presi 
ded  Gamble  the  propriety  of  a  free  paass  ove'  his 
road." 

"  Oh  ?  does  you  indeed  !  Is  dat  so  !  Why  you 
makes  me  proud  o'  myse'ff.  You  hole  a  free  paass  on 
de  raailroad,  an'  yit  you  countercend  to  fly  to  me !  " 
The  manner  changed  to  one  of  sweet  curiosity.  "  Does 
you  fly  jess  with  yo'  two  feet,  aw  does  you  comp'ise  de 
assistance  o'  yo'  ears  ?  " 

"  Why,  eh — why,  I  declah  'pon  my  soul,  you — you  es 
peart  es  popcawn  !  You  trebbles  me  to  respond  to  you 
with  sufficient  talk-up-titude." 

"  Does  I  ?  Laws-a-me !  I  ax  yo'  pahdon,  Mr.  Leg 
gett.  But  I  uz  bawn  sassy.  I  ought  to  be  jess  ashame' 
o'  myseff,  talkin'  dat  familious  to  a  gen'leman  o'  yo' 
powehs  an'  'quaintances  .  Why  you  evm  knows  Mr. 
Mahch,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Who,  me  ?     Me  know  Johnnie  Mahch  ?     Why,  my 


280       JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

dea' — escuse  my  smile  o'  disdaain — why  Johnnie  Mahch 
— why — why,  I  ra-aise'  Johnnie  !  " 

"  Why,  dee  Lawdy  !  Does  you  call  him  Johnnie  to 
his  face  ?  " 

"Well,  eh — not  offm — ve'y  seldom.  'Gaze  ef  I  do 
that,  you  know,  then,  here,  fus'  thing,  he  be  a-callin'  me 
C'nelius." 

"I  think  C'nelius  sounds  sweet'n —  The  speaker 
clapped  a  hand  to  her  mouth.  "  Escuse  me !  O,  Mr. 
Leggett,  kin  you  escuse  me  ?  " 

"  Escuse  you  ?  " — his  sidelong  glance  was  ravishing — 
"yo'  beauty  mo'n  escuse  you." 

The  maiden  dropped  her  lashes  and  drew  her  feet  out 
of  her  protector's  way.  "  An'  you  an'  Mr.  Mahch  is 
frien's  !  How  nice  dat  is  !  " 

"  Yass,  it  nice  faw  him.  An'  it  useful  faw  me.  We 
in  cahoots  in  dis-yeh  Ian'  boom.  O,  yass,  me  an'  him  an' 
Gyarnit  an'  Gamble,  all  togetheh  like  fo'  brethers.  I 
plays  the  fife,  Johnnie  beats  the  drum,  Gyarnit  wear  the 
big  hat  an'  flerrish  the  stick,  an'  Gamble,  he  tote  the  ice- 
wateh ! "  The  two  laughed  so  heartily  as  to  swing 
against  each  other. 

"  Escuse  me  !  "  said  Mr.  Leggett,  with  great  fondness 
of  tone. 

"You  ve'y  escusable,"  coyly  replied  the  damsel.  "  Mr. 
Leggett,  in  what  similitude  does  you  means  you  plays 
de  fife  ? " 

"  Why  in  the  s'militude  o'  legislation,  you  know.  But 
Law' !  Johnnie  wouldn't  neveh  had  the  sense  to  'range 
it  that-a  way  if  it  hadn't  been  faw  my  dea'  ole-time 
frien'  an'  felleh  sodjer,  Gyarnit." 


DELILAH  281 

"  Is  dat  so  ?  Well,  well !  Maajo'  Gyaruit !  You 
used  to  cook  faw  him  in  camp  di'n'  you  ?  How  much 
good  sense  he  got,  tubbe  sho' !  "  A  mixture  of  roguish- 
ness  spoiled  the  pretence  of  wonder. 

"  Good  sense  ?  Law'  !  'twant  good  sense  in  Gyarnit 
nuther.  It  was  jess  my  pow'  ove'  him !  my  stra-auge, 
masmaric  poweh !  You  know,  the  arrangements  is  jess 
this  !  Gyarnit  got  th'ee  hund'ed  sheers,  I  got  fawty;  yit 
I  the  poweh  behime  the  th'one.  Johnnie,  he  on'y  sec'ta'y 
an'  'ithout  a  salary  as  yit,  though  him  an'  his  maw 
got — oh  !  I  dunno — but  enough  so  he  kin  sell  it  faw  all 
his  daddy  could  'a'  sole  the  whole  track  faw — that  is, 
perwidin'  he  kin  fine  a  buyeh.  Champion,  Shotwell, 
the  Graveses — all  that  crowd,  they  jess  on'y  the  flies 
'roun'  the  jug  ;  bymeby  they  find  theyse'ves  onto  the 
fly-papeh."  The  pair  laughed  again,  and 

"  Oh  !  escuse  me  !  " 

"  My  accident,  seh.  Mr.  Leggett,  hoccum  you  got  all 
dat  poweh  ? " 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  smiling  gallant,  "  you  wants  to  know 
the  secret  o'  my  poweh,  do  you  ?  Well,  that  interjuce 
the  ezacly  question  I'm  jess  a-honin'  to  ass  you.  You 
ass  me  the  secret  o'  my  poweh.  Don't  you  know  thass 
the  ve'y  thing  what  Delijah  ass  Saampson?  " 

"  Yass,  seh.     I  knows.     Dass  in  de  Bible,  ain't  it? " 

"  It  is.  It  in  the  sacred  scripters,  which  I  hope  that, 
like  myseff,  fum  a  chile  thou  hass  known  them,  ain't  you  ? 
Yass,  well,  thass  right.  I  loves  to  see  a  young  lady 
pious.  I'm  pious  myseff.  Ef  I  wan't  a  legislater  Td  be 
a  preacher.  Now,  you  ass  me  the  same  riddle  what 
Delijah  ass  Saampson.  An'  you  know  how  he  anseh  her  ? 


282  JOIIX  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

He  assed  a  riddle  to  her.  An'  likewise  this  my  sweet 
riddle  to  you :  Is  I  the  Saampson  o'  yo'  hope  an'  dream 
an'  will  you  he  my  Deli —  Aw !  now,  don't  whisk 
away  like  that  an'  gag  yo'seff  with  yo'  handkercher !  I's 
a  lawful  widoweh,  dearess." 

The  maiden  quenched  her  mirth  and  put  on  great 
dignity.  "  Mr.  Leggett,  will  you  please  to  teck  yo'  ahm 
fum  roun'  my  wais'  ?  "  She  glanced  back  with  much 
whiteness  of  eyes.  "  Teck  it  off,  seh  ;  I  ain't  aansw'ed 
you  yit." 

The  arm  fell  away,  but  his  whispering  lips  came  close. 
"  Ain't  I  yo'  Saampson,  dearess  o'  the  dear  ?  Ain't 
you  the  Delijah  o'  my  haht?  Answeh  me,  my  julepina, 
an'  O,  I'll  reply  you  the  secret  o'  my  poweh  aw  any 
otheh  question  in  the  wide,  wide  worl'  !  " 

"  Mr.  Leggett,  ef  you  crowds  me  any  wuss  on  dis-yeh 
buggy  seat  I — I'll  give  you — I'll  give  you  a  unfavo'able 
answeh  !  Mr.  Leggett  " — she  sniggered — "  you  don't 
gimme  no  chaynce  to  think  o'  no  objections  even  ef  I 
had  any  !  Will  you  please  to  keep  yo'  foot  where  yo' 
foot  belong,  seh  ?  Mr.  Leggett 

"  What  is  it,  my  sweet  spirit  o'  nightshade?  " 

"  Mr.  Leggett  " — the  eyes  sparkled  with  banter — "  I'll 
tell  you  ef  you'll  fus'  aansweh  me  a  riddle ;  will  you  ? 
'Gaze  ef  you  don't  I  won't  tell  you.  Will  you  ?  " 

"  Lawd  !  I'll  try  !  On'y  ass  it  quick  befo'  my  haht 
bus'  wide  opm.  Ass  it  quick  !  " 

"  Well,  you  know,  I  cayn't  ass  it  so  scan'lous  quick, 
else  I  run  de  dangeh  o'  gettin'  it  wrong.  Now,  dis  is  it : 
When  is — hoi'  on,  lemme  see — yass,  dass  it.  When  is 
two — aw !  pshaw !  you  make  me  laaugh  so  I  can't 


DELILAH  283 

ax  it  at  all !  When  is  two  raace  hawses  less'n 
one  ? " 

"  Aw,  sheh  !  I  kin  ans'  that  in  five  minutes  !  I  kin  ans' 
it  in  one  minute  !  I  kin  ans'  it  now  !  Two  hosses  is — " 

"  Hoi'  on !  I  said  raace  hawses !  Two  raace  hawses, 
I  said,  seh  !  " 

"  Well,  dass  all  right,  race  hosses  !  Two  race  hosses 
less'n  one  when  they  reti-ud  into  the  omlibus  business." 

"  No,  seh  !  no  seh  !  "  The  maiden  cackled  till  the  for 
est  answered  back.  "  No,  seh  !  two  raace  hawses  less'n 
one  when  each  one  on'y  jess  abreas'  o'  the  otheh !  " 

—  "  'Breas'  o'  —  aw  pshaw  !  you  tuck  the  words 
right  out'n  my  mouth  !  I  seed  the  answeh  to  it  fum 
the  fus ;  I  made  a  wrong  espunction  the  fus  time 
on'y  jess  faw  a  joke  !  Now,  you  ans'  my  question, 
dearess." 

But  the  dearest  had  become  grave  and  stately.  "  Mr. 
Leggett,  befo'  I  comes  to  dat  finality,  I  owes  it  to  my- 
seff  an'  likewise  to  my  pa'ents  to  git  yo'  respondence  to, 
anyhow,  one  question,  an'  ef  you  de  man  o'  poweh  you 
say  you  is,  y'  ought  to  be  highly  fitt'n'  to  give  de  correc' 
reply." 

"  Espoun'  your  question,  miss !  Espoun'  yo'  question !  " 

"  Well,  seh,  de  question  is  dis  :  Why  is  de — ?  No, 
dat  ain't  it.  Lemme  see.  O  yass,  whass  de  diff'ence 
'twix'  de  busy  blacksmiff  an'  de  loss  calf?  Ans'  me  dat, 
seh  !  Folks  say  C'nelius  Leggett  a  pow'ful  smalit  maan ! 
How  I  gwine  to  know  he  a  smalit  maan  ef  he  cayn't 
evm  ans'  a  riddle-diddle-dee  ?  " 

"  I  kin  ans'  it !  I's  ans'ed  bushels  an'  ba'ls  o'  rid 
dles  !  Now  that  riddle  is  estremely  simple,  an'  dis  is  de 


284  JOHAr  MA  R r/7,  SO  U  THERNER 

inte'p'etation  thereof!  The  diff'ence  betwix'  a  busy 
blacksmiff  an'  a  loss  ca-alf— thass  what  you  said,  ain't 
it  ? — Yass,  well,  it's  because — O  thass  too  easy  !  I  dis 
likes  to  occupy  my  facilities  with  sich  a  trifle!  It's  jess 
simply  because  they  both  git  so  hawngry  they  cross 
eyed  !  Thass  why  they  alike  !  " 

"  No,  seh  !  no,  seh  !  miss  it  ag'in  !  O  fie,  fo'  shaame ! 
a  man  o'  sich  mind-powehs  like  you  !  Didn't  you  neveh 
know  de  blacksmiff  fill  de  air  full  o'  bellows  whilce  de 
loss  calf — aw  shucks!  you  done  made  me  fo'git  it! 
Now,  jess  hesh  up,  you  smaht  yalleh  niggeh  !  tryin'  to 
meek  out  like  you  done  guess  it !  Dis  is  it ;  de  black 
smiff  he  fill  de  caalf  full  o'  bellows,  whilce " 

They  both  broke  into  happy  laughter  and  he  toyed 
innocently  with  one  of  her  pinchbeck  ear-rings. 

"  O !  my  sweet  familiarity  !  you  knows  I  knows  it ! 
But  yo'  sof '  eyes  is  shot  me  th'oo  to  that  estent  that  I 
don't  know  what  I  does  know !  I  jess  sets  here  in  the 
emba'ssment  o'  my  complacency  a  won'de'n'  what  you 
takes  me  faw !  " 

"  How  does  you  know  I's  tuck  you  at  all  yit ;  is  I 
said  so,  Mr.  Saampson  ? — Don't  you  tetch  me,  seh ! 
right  here  in  full  sight  o'  de  house !  You's  too  late, 
seh  !  too  late  !  Come  roun'  here,  C'nelius  Leggett,  an' 
he'p  me  out'n  dis-yeh  buggy,  else  I  dis'p'int  you  yit  wid 
my  aansweh. — No,  seh !  you  please  to  take  jess  de  tips 
o'  my  fingehs.  Now,  gimme  my  bundle  o'  duds  !  "  the 
voice  rose  and  fell  in  coquettish  undulations — "  now  git 
back  into  de  buggy — yass,  seh;  dass  right.  Thaank 
yo  ve'y  much,  seh.  Good-by.  Come  ag'in." 

"  Miss  Daphne,  y'  ain't  ans'  my  interrogutive  yit." 


DELILAH  285 

"  Yass,  I  is.     Dass  my  answeh — come  ag'in." 

"  Is  dat  all  de  respondence  my  Delijah  got  faw  her 
Saampson  ?  " 

"Mr.  Leggett,  I  ain't  yo'  Delijah!  Thass  fix!  I 
ain't  read  the  scripters  in  relations  to  dat  young  lady 
faw  nuthin  !  Whetheh  you  my  Saampson  remain  " — 
the  smile  and  tone  grew  bewitching — "  faw  me  to  know 
an  faw  you  to  fine  out." 

"  Shell  I  come  soon  ?  "  murmured  Mr.  Leggett,  for 
the  old  field  hand  and  his  wife  were  in  sight ;  and  the 
girl  answered  in  full  voice,  but  winsomely : 

"  As  to  dat,  seh,  I  leaves  you  to  de  freedom  o'  yo'  own 
compulsions." 

He  moved  slowly  away,  half  teased,  half  elated.  At 
the  last  moment  he  cast  a  final  look  backward,  and 
Daphne  Jane,  lagging  behind  the  old  couple,  tossed  him 
a  kiss. 

Quite  satisfied  to  be  idle,  but  not  to  be  alone,  the 
maiden  so  early  contrived  with  her  Leggettstown 
vivacity  to  offend  the  old  field  hands,  that  the  night 
found  her  with  only  herself  and  her  cogitations  for  com 
pany. 

However,  the  house  was  still  new  to  her,  if  not  in  its 
pantry,  at  least  in  its  bureaus  and  wardrobes,  and  when 
she  had  spent  the  first  evening  hour  counterfeiting  the 
softly  whimpered  quavers  of  a  little  screech-owl  that 
snivelled  its  woes  from  a  tree  in  the  back-yard,  the 
happy  thought  came  to  her  innocent  young  mind  to  try 
on  the  best  she  could  find  of  her  mistress's  gowns  and 
millinery.  By  hook  and  by  crook,  combined  with  a 


286  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

blithe  assiduity,  she  managed  to  open  doors  and  drawers, 
and  if  mimicry  is  the  heaven  of  aspiring  laziness,  the 
maid  presently  stood  unchallenged  on  the  highest  plateau 
of  a  sluggard's  bliss.  She  minced  before  the  mirror,  she 
sank  into  chairs,  she  sighed  and  whined,  took  the  atti 
tudes  given  or  implied  by  the  other  Daphne's  portrait 
down-stairs,  and  said  weary  things  in  a  faint,  high  key. 
And  then — whether  the  contagion  was  in  the  cloth 
ing  she  had  put  on,  or  whether  her  make-up  and  her 
acting  were  so  good  as  to  deceive  Calliope  herself — in 
spiration  came  ;  the  lonely  reveler  was  moved  to  write. 
Poetry  ?  No  !  "  Miss  it  ag'n  !  "  She  began  a  letter 
intended  to  inform  "  Mr.  S.  Cunnelius  Leggett,"  that 
while  alike  by  her  parents  and  by  Mrs.  March  she  was 
forbidden  to  see  "  genlmun  frens,"  an  unannounced 
evening  visitor's  risks  of  being  shot  by  Mr.  March  first, 
and  the  question  of  his  kinship  to  the  late  Enos  settled 
afterward,  were  probably — in  the  popular  mind — ex 
aggerated.  The  same  pastime  enlivened  the  next  even 
ing  and  the  next.  She  even  went  farther  and  ventured 
into  verse.  Always  as  she  wrote  she  endeavored  to  im 
personate  in  numerous  subtleties  of  carriage  the  sweet 
songstress  whose  gowns  she  had  contrived — albeit  whose 
shoes  she  still  failed — to  get  into.  And  so,  with  a  con 
science  void  of  offence,  she  was  preparing  herself  to  find 
out,  what  so  many  of  us  already  know,  that  playing 
even  with  the  muse's  fire  is  playing  with  fire,  all  the 
same. 


MEETIXG  OF  STOCKHOLDERS  287 

XLIX. 
MEETING    OF    STOCKHOLDERS 

AT  sunrise  of  the  twenty-second,  Barbara  started 
from  her  pillow,  roused  by  the  jarring  thunder  of  a  can 
non.  As  it  pealed  a  second  time  Fannie  drew  her 
down. 

"  It's  only  Charlie  Champion  in  the  square  firing  a 
salute.  Go  to  sleep  again." 

As  they  stepped  out  after  breakfast  for  a  breath  of 
garden  air,  they  saw  John  March  a  short  way  off,  trying 
to  lift  the  latch  of  Parson  Tombs's  low  front  gate.  He 
tried  thrice  and  again,  but  each  time  he  bent  down  the 
beautiful  creature  he  rode  would  rear  until  it  seemed  as 
if  she  must  certainly  foil  back  upon  her  rider.  The 
pastor  had  come  out  on  his  gallery,  where  he  stood,  all 
smiles,  waiting  for  John  to  win  in  the  pretty  strife, 
which  the  rider  presently  did,  and  glanced  over  to  the 
Halliday  garden,  more  than  ready  to  lift  his  hat.  But 
Fannie  and  Barbara  were  busy  tiptoeing  for  peach 
blossoms. 

"  Good-morning,  Brother  March  ;  won't  you  'light  ?  I 
declare  I  don't  know  which  you  manage  best,  yo'  horse 
aw  yo'  tempeh  !  "  The  parson  laughed  heartily  to  in 
dicate  that,  however  doubtful  the  compliment,  his 
intentions  were  kind. 

"  Good-morning,  sir,"  said  John  in  the  gateway  as  his 
pastor  came  bareheaded  toward  him ;  and  after  a  word 


288       JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

or  two  more  of  greeting — "  Mr.  Tombs,  there's  to  be 
a  meeting  of  stockholders  in  the  parlor  of  the  hotel 
at  ten  o'clock.  My  friend,  Mr.  Fair,  got  here  yesterday 
evening,  and  we  want  him  to  see  that  we  mean  business 
and  hope  he  does." 

"  I  see,"  said  Parson  Tombs,  with  a  momentous  air. 
"  And  I'll  come.  I  may  be  a  little  late  in  gett'n'  there, 
faw  I've  got  to  hitch  up  aft'  a  while  and  take  Mother 
Tombs  to  spend  the  day,  both  of  us,  with  our  daughters, 
Mrs.  Hamlet  and  Lazarus  Graves.  I  don't  reckon  any 
body  else  has  noticed  it  but  them,  but,  John,  my  son, 
Mother  Tombs  an'  I  will  be  married  jess  fifty  years  to 
night  !  However  that's  neither  here  nor  there  ;  I'll 
come.  If  I'm  half  aw  three-quarters  of  an  hour  late, 
why,  I  reckon  that's  no  mo'n  the  rest  of  'em  will  be, 
is  it  ?  " 

John  smiled  and  said  he  feared  it  wasn't.  As  his 
mare  leaped  from  the  sidewalk  to  the  roadway  he 
noted  the  younger  pastor  going  by  on  the  other  side, 
evidently  on  a  reconnoisance.  For  the  committee  on 
decorations  was  to  come  with  evergreens  to  begin  to  deck 
the  Tombs  parsonage  the  moment  the  aged  pair  should 
get  out  of  sight  of  it. 

Three  persons  were  prompt  to  the  moment  at  the  meet 
ing  of  stockkolders :  Garnet,  Gamble,  and  Jonas  Crick- 
water,  the  new  clerk  of  Swanee  Hotel  and  a  subscriber  for 
one  share — face  value  one  hundred  dollars,  cash  payment 
ten.  A  moment  later  Cornelius  entered,  and  with  a 
peering  smile. 

"  Howdy,  Leggett  ?  "  said  Garnet,  affably  ;  but  when 


MEETING  OF  STOCKHOLDERS  289 

the  tawny  statesman  moved  as  though  he  might  offer  to 
shake  hands,  the  Major  added  with  increased  cordiality, 
"  take  a  seat,"  and  waved  him  to  a  chair  against  the 
wall ;  then,  turning  his  back,  he  resumed  conversation 
with  the  railroad  president.  Presently  John  March  ar 
rived,  with  a  dignity  in  his  gait  and  an  energy  in 
his  eye  that  secretly  amused  the  president  of  the 
road.  John  looked  at  his  watch  with  an  apologetic 
smile. 

"  I  supposed  you  had  gone  some  place  to  get  Mr. 
Fair,"  said  Garnet. 

"  He's  in  Jeff-Jack's  office ;  they're  coming  over 
together."  John  busied  himself  with  his  papers  to  veil 
his  immense  satisfaction.  Looking  up  from  them  he 
saw  Leggett.  "  Oh  !  "  he  exclaimed,  stepped  forward, 
and,  with  a  constrained  bow,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life 
gave  him  his  hand.  The  mulatto  bowed  low  and  smiled 
eruptively,  too  tickled  to  speak. 

At  the  end  of  half  an  hour  the  gathering  numbered 
nine,  and  everybody  was  in  conversation  with  somebody. 
Mr.  Crick  water,  after  three  gay  but  futile  attempts  to 
tell  Gamble  that  they  were  from  the  same  State  in 
the  North,  leaned  against  a  wall  with  anguish  in  his 
every  furtive  glance,  hopelessly  button-holed  by  Leg 
gett. 

"  Ah ! "  cried  Garnet,  as  Jeff-Jack  and  Fair  entered 
together.  The  Major  laughed  out  for  joy.  In  a 
moment  it  was — "  Mr.  Fair,  this  man,  and  Mr.  Fair, 
that  one — you  remember  President  Gamble,  of  course  ? — 
and  Captain  Champion  ?  Mr.  Fair,  let  me  make  you 
acquainted  with  Mr.  Hersey.  Mr.  Weed  1  think  you 


290  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

met  the  last  time  you  were  here.  No  !  this  is  Mr.  Weed, 
that's  our  colored  representative,  Mr.  Leggett.  He'd  like 
to  shake  hands  with  you,  too,  sir." 

"  Mr.  Fair,"  said  Cornelius,  "  seh,  to  you ;  yass,  I 
likes  to  get  my  sheer  o'  whateveh's  a-goin'." 

He  was  about  to  say  much  more,  but  Garnet  pur 
posely  drowned  his  voice.  "  Gentlemen,  we'll  proceed 
to  business.  Mr.  Crickwater,  will  you  act  as  door 
keeper  ?  "  Mr.  Crickwater  assumed  that  office. 

Secretary  March  having  occasion  to  mention  the 
number  of  subscribed  shares  represented  by  those  present 
as  six  hundred  and  eleven,  Garnet  explained  that 
besides  his  own  subscription  he  represented  one  of 
fifteen  shares  and  another  of  ten  for  two  ladies,  and 
Champion  unintentionally  uttered  a  lurid  monosyllable 
as  Shotwell  stuck  him  under  the  leg  with  a  pin.  They 
were  the  shares,  Garnet  added,  that  General  Halllday 
had  failed  to  take. 

Business  went  on.  When,  by  and  by,  Mr.  Crick- 
water  admitted  Parson  Tombs,  the  pastor  found  the 
company  listening  to  the  Honorable  Cornelius  Leggett 
as  he  expounded  the  reasons  for,  and  the  purposes  of, 
the  various  provisions  of  An  Act  to  authorize  the  Coun 
ties  of  Blackland,  Clearwater,  and  Sandstone  to  sub 
scribe  to  the  capital  stock  of  the  Three-Counties  Land 
and  Improvement  Company,  Limited,  and  to  declare 
said  counties  to  be  bodies  politic  and  corporate  for 
the  purposes  therein  mentioned. 

"  You  see,  gentlemen,"  interposed  Garnet,  "  we  make 
Mr.  Leggett  one  of  the  principal  advocates  of  this  bill 
in  order  to  secure  the  support  of  those,  both  in  the  Legis- 


MEETING  OF  STOCKHOLDERS  291 

lature  and  at  the  polls,  who  are  likely  to  vote  as  he 
votes  on  the  question  of  the  three  counties  subscribing  to     f" 
this  other  thousand  shares,  the  half  of  our  capital  stock 
reserved  for  the  purpose." 

Mr.  Weed  asked  how  many  shares  offered  to  vol 
untary  subscribers  on  the  ten-dollar  instalment  plan  had 
been  taken,  and  Garnet  replied,  "All.  Those,  together 
with  the  shares  assigned  me  in  exchange  for  the  mort 
gages  I  hold  on  Widewood  and  propose  to  surrender,  the 
forty  for  which  Mr.  Leggctt  pays  five  hundred  dollars, 
and  the  two  hundred  retained  by  Mr.  March  and  his 
mother,  make  six  hundred  and  forty,  leaving  three 
hundred  and  sixty  to  be  placed  with  capitalists  willing 
to  pay  their  face  value.  We  have  to-day  an  increased 
confidence  that  these  reinforcements  " — he  smiled — 
"  are  not  far  off.  When  this  is  done  we  shall  have 
raised  the  three-eighths  of  the  face  value  of  the  one  thou 
sand  private  shares,  as  required,  before  the  three  coun 
ties'  subscription  to  the  other  thousand  shares  can  become 
effective.  I  have  to  state,  gentlemen,  that  General  Ilal- 
liday  has  been  compelled  by  the  weight  of  other  burdens 
to  resign  the  treasurership  ;  but  on  the  other  hand  I  have 
the  pleasure  to  announce  that  Captain  Charles  Cham 
pion  has  consented  to  act  as  treasurer,  and  also,  that 
Colonel  Ravenel  expresses  his  willingness  to  serve  as  one 
of  the  two  trustees  for  the  three  counties  on  the — 
(applause) — on  the  very  reasonable  condition  that  he 
be  allowed  to  name  the  other  trustee.  I  believe  there's 
no  other  formal  business  before  the  meeting,  but  before 
we  adjourn  I  think  a  few  brief  remarks  from  one  or  two 
gentlemen  who  have  not  yet  spoken  will  be  worth  far 


292  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

more  than  the  time  they  occupy.  I'll  call  on  our  vice- 
president,  Mr.  Gamble."  (Applause.) 

Gamble  said  his  father  used  to  toll  him  a  man  of 
words  and  not  of  deeds  was  like  a  garden  full  of  weeds. 
Here  he  was  silent  so  long  that  Champion  whispered  to 
Shotwell,  "  He's  stuck  !  " 

But  at  length  he  resumed,  that  he  attributed  his  own 
success  in  life  to  his  always  having  believed  in  deeds ! 

"  Indeed !  "  echoed  Shotwell  in  so  audible  a  whisper 
that  half  the  group  smiled. 

Gamble  replied  that  his  statement  might  surprise 
some  that  had  been  asleep  for  the  last  twenty  years,  but 
he  guessed  there  wasn't  any  such  person  in  this  crowd. 
(Laughter.)  However,  he  proposed  to  say  in  a  few 
words,  which  should  be  as  much  like  deeds  as  he  could 
make  'em,  what  he  was  willing  to  do.  He  paused  so 
long  again  that  Champion  winked  at  John  and  was 
afraid  to  look  at  Shotwell. 

He  remembered,  the  speaker  finally  began  again, 
another  good  saying — couldn't  seem  to  be  sure  whether 
it  was  from  Shakespeare  or  the  Bible — that  "  a  fool  and 
his  money  are  soon  parted."  Now,  he  was  far  from 
intending  that  for  anyone  present — 

"  No-o,"  slowly  interrupted  Hersey,  turning  from  a 
large  spittoon,  "  we  ain't  any  of  us  got  any  money  to 
part  with." 

"  Well,  I  haven't  mistook  any  of  you  for  fools, 
neither.  But  I  think  that  proverb,  or  whatever  you 
call  it,  is  as  ranch's  to  say  just  like  this,  that  if  a  man 
ain't  a  fool,  'tain't  easy  to  part  him  from  his  money !  " 
(Applause.) 


MEETING  OF  STOCKHOLDERS 

"  How  about  a  fool  and  his  land  ? "  asked  John,  with 
a  genial  countenance. 

"  O  ?/<w'rc  all  riglit,"  eagerly  replied  Gamble,  and 
smiled  inquiringly  as  the  company  roared  with  laughter. 
"  Why,  gentlemen,  our  able  and  efficient  secretary  is  all 
right !  Land  ain't  always  money,  and  the  fool  is  the 
man  who  won't  let  his  land  go  when  he's  got  too  much 
of  it.  (Applause.)  But  that's  not  what  I  was  driving 
at,  What  I  was  driving  at  was  this  :  that  if  we  want 
to  get  any  man  or  men  to  put  big  money  into  this  thing 
out  o'  their  own  pockets,  we've  got  to  make  'em  officers 
of  the  company  an'  give  'em  control  of  it.  Of  course, 
our  secretary  is  in  to  stay ;  that's  part  of  his  pay  for 
the  land  lie  gives ;  but  except  as  to  him,  gentlemen, 
there'll  have  to  be  a  new  slate.  How's  that,  Mr.  Pres 
ident?" 

"  Certainly  ;  we're  all  pro  tern,  except  Mr.  March — 
and  Colonel  Kay  en  el." 

"Yes,  Colonel  Ravenel,  of  course;  but  the  man  he 
selects  for  the  other  trustee  must  be  someone  satisfactory 
to  the  men  on  the  new  slate,  eh,  Colonel  ?  " 

Ravenel  smiled,  nodded,  and  as  Gamble  still  looked 
at  him,  said,  "  All  right." 

"  Now,  gentlemen,  if  any  of  you  don't  agree  to  these 
things,  now  is  the  time  to  say  it."  A  long  pause.  "If 
we  are  all  agreed,  then  all  I've  got  to  add,  Mr.  President, 
is  just  this:  you  say  there's  three  hundred  and  sixty 
shares  for  sale  at  their  face  value  ;  I'll  take  two  hun 
dred  when  anybody  else  will  take  the  balance." 
(Applause.) 

As  Gamble  sank  down  Garnet  glanced  over  to  Fair, 


294  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

who  was  sitting  next  to  Jeff- Jack  ;  but  Fair  began  to 
read  some  of  the  company's  printed  matter  and  the 
whole  gathering  saw  Ravenel  give  Garnet  a  faint  shake 
of  the  head. 

"  Ravenel ! "  suggested  Champion,  but  Jeff-Jack 
quietly  replied,  "  Father  Tombs,"  and  five  or  six  others 
repeated  the  call.  The  pastor  rose. 

"  I'm  most  afraid,  my  dea'  friends  an'  brethren,  I 
oughtn't  to  try  to  speak  to  this  crowd.  I'm  a  man  of 
words  and  not  of  deeds,  an'  yet  I'm  'fraid  I  shan't  evm 
say  the  right  thing.  I  belong  to  the  past.  I've  been 
thinkin'  of  the  past  every  minute  I've  been  a-sittV  here. 
Yo'  faces  ah  all  turned  to  the  future  an'  ah  lighted  "— 
lie  lifted  his  arm  and  waggled  his  hand — "  by  the 
beams  of  a  risin'  sun  reflected  from  the  structu'es  o'  yo' 
golden  dreams.  As  I  look  back  down  the  long  an' 
shining  stair-steps  o'  the  years  I  count  seventy-two  of 
'em  in  the  clear  sight  o'  memory's  eye  besides  fo'  or  five 
that  lie  shrouded  in  the  silve'y  mist  of  earliest  child 
hood."  The  pastor,  ceased  and  his  hearers  were  very 
still. 

"  I  don't  tell  my  age  to  brag  of  it,  but  if  I  remind  you- 
all  that  I've  baptized  mo'  Suez  babies  than  there  are 
now  Suez  men  an'  women  alive,  an'  have  seen  jest  about 
eve'y  cawnehstone  laid  in  this  town  that's  ever  been  laid, 
I  needn't  say  my  heart's  in  yo'  fawtunes  whether  faw 
this  world  aw  the  next. 

"  An'  I  don't  doubt  you  goin'  to  be  prospe'd.  AVhat 
I'm  bound  to  tell  you  I've  my  private  fears  of,  an'  yet 
what  I'm  hopin'  an'  trustin'  and  prayin'  the  Lord  will 
deliveh  you  fum  —  evm  as  a  cawp'ate  company  —  is 


MEETING  OF  STOCKHOLDERS  295 

the  debasin'  sin  o'  money  greed.  Gentlemen,  an'  dea' 
friends  an'  breth'cn,  may  Gawd  save  you  fum  that  as 
he  saved  the  two  Ezra  Jaspchs,  the  foundeh  o'  Suez  an' 
his  cousin,  the  grantee  of  Widewood,  fum  the  folly  o' 
Ian'  greed.  For  I  tell  you  they  may  not  V  managed 
either  tract  as  well  as  some  otheh  men  think  they  might 
'a'  done  it,  but  they  were  saved  the  folly  whereof  I  speak. 
They's  been  some  talk  an'  laugh  here  this  mawnin'  about 
John  March  a-partin'  with  so  much  o'  his  Ian'.  Well,  if 
that  makes  him  a  fool,  he's  a  fool  by  my  advice!  Faw 
when  he  come  to  me  with  his  plans  all  in  the  bud,  so  to 
speak,  I  said  to  him  there  an'  then,  an'  he'll  remembeh  : 
Johnnie,  s'l,  I've  set  on  the  knees  of  both  Ezra  Jaspehs, 
an'  I'm  tcllin'  you  what  I  know  of  the  one  that  was  yo' 
fatheh's  grand-fatheh,  as  you  say  you  know  it  of  yo' own 
sainted  fathcli :  that  if  the  time  had  eveh  come  in  hig 
life  when  paht'n'  with  AVidewood  tract  would  of  seemed 
any  ways  likely  to  turn  it  into  sco'es  an'  hund'eds  o' 
p'osp'ous  an'  pious  homes  he  would  'a'  givm  ninety-nine 
hund'edths  away  faw  nothin'  rather  than  not  see  that 
change ;  yes,  an'  had  mo'  joy  oveh  the  one-hund'cdth 
left  to  him  than  oveh  the  ninety  an'  nine  to  'a'  kep'  'em 
as  the  lan's  of  on'y  one  owneh  an'  one  home. 

"  Gentlemen,  I'm  free  to  allow,  as  I  heah  the  expla 
nations  o'  all  the  gue-ards  an'  counteh-gue-ards  o'  this 
beautiful  scheme — schools  faw  the  well-to-do  an'  the 
ill-to-do,  imperatively  provided  as  fast  as  toil  is  provided 
faw  the  toiler  and  investments  faw  the  investor — I  have 
cause  to  rejoice  an'  be  glad.  An'  yet !  It  oughtn't  to 
seem  strange  to  you-all  if  an'  ole  man,  a  man  o'  the  quiet 
ole  plougliiu'  an'  plantin',  fodder-pullin',  soug-singin', 


296  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

cotton-pickin',  Christmas-keepin'  clays,  the  days  o'  wide 
room  an'  easy  goin',  should  feel  right  smaht  o'  solicitude 
an'  tripidation  when  he  sees  the  red  an'  threatenin'  dawn 
of  anotheh  time,  a  time  o'  mines  an'  mills  an'  fact'ries 
an'  swarmin'  artisans'  an'  operatives  an'  all  the  concom 
itants  o'  crowded  an'  complicated  conditions,  an'  that 
he  should  fall  to  prayin'  aloud  in  the  very  highways 
an'  hotels,  like  some  po'  benighted  believer  in  printed 
prayehs  an'  litanies,  the  petition  :  Fum  all  Ole  WorP 
sins  an'  New  WorP  fanaticisms,  fum  all  new-comcre, 
whetheh  immigrants  aw  capitalists,  with  delete'ious 
politics  at  va'iance  fum  ow  own,  which,  hcavm  knows, 
ah  delete'ious  enough,  an'  most  of  all  fum  the  greed  o' 
money,  good  Lawd  deliv'  us ! 

"  An'  I  have  faith  that  he  will.  UpheP  by  that  faith, 
I've  taken  fifteen  shares  myself.  But  O,  if  faith  could 
right  here  an'  now  be  changed  into  sight,  then  would 
this  day  be  as  golden  in  my  hopes  faw  Suez  an'  her  three 
counties  as  it  already  is  faw  my  private  self  in  memory 
o'  past  joys." 

The  speaker  was  sinking  into  his  chair  wThcn  Garnet 
asked  with  a  smile  that  everyone  but  the  pastor  under 
stood,  "  Why,  how's  that  Brother  Tombs ;  is  this  day 
something  more  than  usual  to  you  ?  " 

"  Brother  Garnet,  if  I've  hinted  that  it  is,  it's  mo' 
than  I  started  out  to  do,  but  I'm  tempted,  seein'  so  many 
friends  in  one  bunch  so,  to  jest  ask  yo'-all's  congratu 
lations  on  " — the  eyes  glistened  with  moisture — "  the 
golden  anniversary  o'  my  weddin'  day." 

The  walls  rang  with  applause,  men  crowded  laughingly 
around  the  Parson  to  shake  his  hand,  and  in  ten  minutes 


THE  JA  MB  ORER  297 

the  room  was  silent  and  the  company  gone,  "  every  man 
to  his  tent,"  as  the  happy  Parson  said,  each  one  as  ready 
for  his  noontide  meal  as  it  was  for  him. 


THE  JAMBOREE 

THE  social  event  of  that  midday  was  not  the  large 
family  dinner  where  Mother  Tombs  sat  between  Hamlet 
and  Lazarus,  and  Father  Tombs  between  their  wives ; 
where  Sister  March  was  in  the  prettiest  good  humor 
conceivable  and  the  puns  were  of  the  sort  that  need 
to  be  italicized,  and  the  anecdotes  were  family  heirlooms, 
and  the  mirth  was  as  spontaneous  as  the  wit  was  scarce, 
and  not  one  bad  conscience  was  hidden  beneath  it  all. 
The  true  social  event  of  that  hour  was  the  repast  given 
by  John  March  to  Mr.  Fair  in  Swanee  Hotel,  at  which 
General  Hulliday,  Captain  Champion,  and  Dr.  Coffin 
were  on  John's  left,  Kavenel  sat  at  the  foot  of  the  board, 
and  at  John's  right  were  Fair,  in  the  place  of  honor, 
then  Garnet,  and  then  Shotwell  in  the  seat  appointed 
for  Gamble,  who  had  suddenly  found  he  couldn't  possi 
bly  stay. 

Here  were  no  mothers'  quotations  of  their  children's 
accidental  wit,  nor  husbands'  and  wives'  betrayals  of 
silly  sweetnesses  of  long-gone  courtships  and  honey 
moons.  Passing  from  encomiums  upon  Parson  Tomba's 
powers  to  the  subject  of  eloquence  in  general,  the  allu- 


298  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

sions  were  mainly  to  Edmund  Burke,  John  C.  Calhoun, 
Sargent  S.  Prentiss,  and  Lorenzo  Dow.  The  examples 
of  epigram  were  drawn  from  the  times  of  Addison,  those 
of  poetic  wisdom  from  Pope,  of  witty  jest  from  Douglas 
Jerrold  and  Sidney  Smith,  of  satire  from  Randolph  of 
Roanoke.  John  March  told,  very  successfully,  how  a 
certain  great  poet  of  the  eighteenth  century  retorted 
impromptu  upon  a  certain  great  lord  in  a  double- 
rhymed  and  triple-punned  repartee.  Champion  and 
Shotwell,  in  happy  alternation,  recited  two  or  three 
incredible  nonsense  speeches  attributed  to  early  local 
celebrities,  and  Garnet  and  Halliday  gave  the  unpub 
lished  inside  histories  of  three  or  four  hitherto  inexplic 
able  facts,  or  seeming  facts,  in  the  personal  or  political 
relations  of  Marshall,  Jackson,  Webster,  and  Clay. 
Burns  and  Byron  were  there  in  spirit,  and  John  could 
have  recited  one  of  his  mother's  poems  if  anyone  had 
asked  for  it. 

As  for  Ravenel  and  Fair,  they  had  their  parts  and 
performed  them  harmoniously  with  the  rest,  so  that 
John  could  see  that  he  himself  and  everyone  else  were 
genuinely  interesting  to  those  two  and  that  they  were 
growingly  interesting  to  each  other.  Both  possessed 
the  art  of  provoking  the  others  to  talk  ;  they  furnished 
the  seed  of  conversation  and  were  its  gardeners,  while 
the  rest  of  the  company  bore  its  fruits  and  flowers. 
Ravenel  seemed  always  to  keep  others  talking  for  his 
diversion,  Fair  for  his  information. 

John  pointed  this  out  to  Miss  Garnet  that  evening,  at 
the  Parson's  golden  wedding,  and  noticed  that  she  lis 
tened  to  him  with  a  perfectly  beautiful  eagerness. 


THE  JA  MB  OREE  299 

"  It's  because  I  talked  about  Fair,"  he  said  to  himself 
as  he  left  her — "  Aha !  there  they  go  off  together,  now." 

The  scene  of  this  movement  was  that  large  house  and 
grounds,  the  "  Usher  home  place,"  just  beyond  the 
ruined  bridge  where  Cornelius  had  once  seen  ghosts. 
A  pretty  sight  it  was  to  come  out  on  the  veranda,  as 
John  did,  and  see  the  double  line  of  parti-colored  trans 
parencies  meandering  through  the  dark  grove  to  the 
gate  and  the  lane  beyond.  Shotwell  met  him. 

"Hello,  March,  looking  for  Fair?  He's  just  passed 
through  that  inside  door  with  Miss  Garnet." 

"  I  know  it — I'm  not  looking  for  anyone — in  partic 
ular." 

Out  here  on  the  veranda  it  was  too  cool  for  ladies  ; 
John  heard  only  male  voices  and  saw  only  the  red  ends 
of  cigars  ;  so,  although  he  was  not — of  course  he  wasn't ! 
— looking  for  anyone — in  particular — he  went  back 
into  the  crowded  house  and  buzzing  rooms. 

"  Hunt'n'  faw  yo'  maw,  John?  "  asked  Deacon  Sex 
ton  as  he  leaned  on  his  old  friend  Mattox  ;  "  she's — 

"  Why,  I'm  not  hunting  for  anybody,"  laughed 
March  ;"  «  do  I  look  like  I  was  ?  " 

He  turned  away  toward  a  group  that  stood  and  sat 
about  Parson  Tombs. 

"  I  never  suspicioned  a  thing,"  the  elated  pastor  was 
saying  for  the  third  or  fourth  time.  "  I  never  sus 
picioned  the  first  thing  till  Motheh  Tombs  and  I  got 
into  ow  gate  comin'  home  fum  the  Graveses !  All  of  a 
sudden  there  we  ware  under  a  perfec'  demonstration 
o'  pine  an'  ceda'  boughs  an'  wreaths  an'  arborvitrc  fas- 
choons !  Evm  then  I  never  suspicioned  but  what  that  was 


300  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

all  until  Miss  Faimie  an'  Miss  Barb  come  in  an'  begin 
banterin'  not  only  Motheli  Tombs  but  me,  if  you'll 
believe  it,  to  lie  down  an'  rest  a  while  befo'  we  came 
roun'  here  to  suppeh  !  Still  I  'llowed  to  myself,  s'l,  it's 
jest  a  few  old  frien's  they've  gotten  togetheh.  But 
when  I  see  the  grove  all  lightened  up  with  those  Chinee 
lanterns,  I  laughed,  an'  s'l  to  motheh,  s'l,  '  I  don't  know 
what  it  is,  but  whatev'  it  is,  it's  the  biggest  thing  of  its 
kind  we've  eveh  treed  in  the  fifty  years  that's  brought 
us  to  this  golden  hour !  '  An'  with  that  po'  motheh,  she 
just  had  to  let  go  all  ho-holts ;  hell — heh  cup  run  oveh. 

"  You  wouldn't  think  so  now,  to  see  heh  sctt'n'  oveh 
there  smilin'  like  a  baskst  o'  chips,  an'  that  little  baag  o' 
gold  dollahs  asleep  in  heh  lap,  would  you  ?  But  that 
smile  ain't  change'  the  least  iota  these  fifty  years.  What 
a  sweet  an'  happy  thought  it  was  o'  John  March,  tellin' 
the  girls  to  put  the  amount  in  fifty  pieces,  one  for  each 
year.  But  he's  always  been  that  original.  Worthy  son 
of  a  worthy  motheh  !  Why,  here  he  is !  Howdy,  John  ? 
I'm  so  proud  to  see  Sisteh  March  here  to-night ;  she 
told  me  at  dinneh  that  she  'llowed  to  go  back  to  Wide- 
wood  this  evenin'." 

"  I  see  in  the  papeh  she  'llowed  to  go  this  mawnin'," 
said  Clay  Mattox. 

John  showed  apologetic  amusement.  "  That's  my 
fault,  I  reckon,  I  understood  mother  to  say  she  couldn't 
stay  this  evening." 

A  finger  was  laid  on  his  shoulder.  It  was  Shotwell 
again.  "  John,  Miss  Fannie  Halliday  wants  Jeff-Jack. 
Do  you  know  where  he  is  ? " 

"  No  !  Where  is  Miss  Fannie  ?  " 


THE  JAMBOREE  301 

Shotwell  lifted  his  hand  again,  with  a  soothing  smile. 
"  Don't  remove  yo'  shirt ;  Ellen  is  saafe,  fo'  that 
thaynk  Heavm,  an'  hopes  ah  fa\v  the  Douglas  givm." 

March  flung  himself  away,  but  Shotwell  turned  him 
again  by  a  supplicating  call  and  manly,  repentant  air. 
"  Law,  John,  don't  mind  my  plaay,  old  man ;  I'm  just 
about  as  sick  as  you  ah.  Here  !  I'll  tell  you  where  she 
is,  an'  then  I'll  tell  you  what  let's  do  !  You  go  hunt 
Jeff-Jack  an'  I'll  gtaay  with  heh  till  you  fetch  him  1 " 

"  That  would  be  nice,"  cheerfully  laughed  John. 

In  the  next  room  he  came  upon  Fannie  standing  in  a 
group  of  Rosemont  and  Montrose  youths  and  damsels. 
They  promptly  drew  away. 

"  John,"  she  said,  "  I  want  to  ask  a  favor  of  you, 
may  I?" 

"  You  can  ask  any  favor  in  the  world  of  me,  Miss 
Fannie,  except  one." 

"  Why,  what's  that  ?  "  risked  Fannie. 

"The  one  you've  just  sent  Shotwell  to  do."  He 
smiled  with  playful  gallantry,  yet  felt  at  once  that  he 
had  said  too  much. 

Fannie  put  on  a  gayety  intended  for  their  furtive 
observers,  as  she  murmured,  "  Don't  look  so !  A  dozen 
people  are  watching  you  with  their  ears  in  their  eyes." 
Then,  in  a  fuller  voice — "  I  want  you  to  get  Parson 
Tombs  away  from  that  crowd  in  yonder.  He's  excited 
and  overtaxing  his  strength." 

"  Then  may  I  come  back  and  spend  a  few  minutes — 
no  more — with  you — alone?  This  is  the  last  chance  I'll 
ever  have,  Miss  Fannie — I — I  simply  must !  " 

"  John,  if  you  simply  must,  why,  then,  you  simply — 


302  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

mustn't.  You'll  have  the  whole  room  trying  to  guess 
what  you're  saying." 

"  They've  no  right  to  guess  !  " 

"  We've  no  right  to  set  them  guessing,  John."  She 
saw  the  truth  strike  and  felt  that  unlucky  impulse  of 
compassion  which  so  often  makes  a  woman's  mercy  so 
unmercifully  ill-timed.  "  Oh  !  "  she  called  as  he  was 
leaving. 

He  came  back  with  a  foolish  hope  in  his  face.  She 
spoke  softly. 

"  Everybody  says  there's  a  new  John  March.  Tell 
me  it's  so  ;  won't  you  ?  " 

"I" — his  countenance  fell — "I  thought  there  was, 
but — I — I  don't  know."  He  went  on  his  errand. 
Champion  met  him  and  fixed  him  with  a  broad  grin. 

"  I  know  what's  the  matter  with  you,  March." 

"  O  pooh !  you  think  so,  eh  ?  Well,  you  never  made 
a  greater  mistake  !  I'm  simply  tired.  I'm  fairly  aching 
with  fatigue,  and  I  suppose  my  face  shows  it." 

"  Yes.  Well,  that's  all  I  meant.  Anybody  can  see 
by  your  face  you're  in  a  perfect  agony  of  fatigue.  You 
don't  conceal  it  as  well  as  Shotwell  does." 

"  Shotwell !  "  laughed  Jolui.  "  He's  got  about  as 
much  agony  to  conceal  as  a  wash-bench  with  a  broken 
leg.  0,  I'll  conceal  mine  if  anybody'll  tell  me  how." 

Champion  closed  his  lips  but  laughed  audibly,  in  his 
stomach.  "Well,  then,  get  that  face  off  of  you.  You 
look  like  a  boy  tliat'd  lost  all  his  money  at  a  bogus 
snake-show." 

When  Fair  came  up  to  Barbara,  she  was  almost  as 


THE  JA  MB  ORE  E  303 

glad  to  see  him  as  John  supposed,  and  brought  her 
every  wit  and  grace  to  bear  for  his  retention,  with  a 
promptness  that  satisfied  even  her  father,  viewing  them 
from  a  distance. 

"  Miss  Garnet,  I  heard  a  man,  just  now,  call  this 
very  pleasant  affair  a  jamboree.  What  constitutes  a 
jamboree  ?  " 

"  Why,  Mr.  Fair,"  said  Barbara,  in  her  most  capti 
vating  drawl,  "  that's  slang !  " 

"  Yes,  I  didn't  doubt.  I  hope  you're  not  guilty  of 
never  using  slang,  are  you?  " 

"  O  no,  sir,  but  I  never  use  it  where  I  can't  wear  a 
shawl  over  my  head.  Still,  I  say  a  great  many  things 
that  are  much  worse  than  slang." 

"Miss  Garnet,  you  say  things  that  are  as  good  as  the 
best  slang  I  ever  heard." 

"  Ah  ! — that's  encouraging.  Did  you  ever  hear  the 
Misses  Kiusington's  rule :  Never  let  your  slang  show  a 
lack  of  wit  or  poverty  of  words !  They  say  it's  a  sure 
cure  for  the  slang  habit.  But  if  you  really  need  to 
know,  Mr.  Fair,  what  constitutes  a  jamboree,  I  can 
go  and  ask  Uncle  Leviticus  for  you  ;  that  is,  if  you'll 
take  me  to  him.  lie's  our  butler  to-night,  and  he's  one 
of  the  old  slave  house-servants  that  you  said  you'd  like 
to  talk  with." 

"But  I  want  to  talk  with  you,  just  now;  definitions 
can  wait." 

"  O  you  shall ;  there's  every  facility  for  talking  there, 
and  it's  not  so  crowded." 

The  consumption  of  refreshments  had  been  early  and 
swift,  and  they  found  the  room  appropriated  to  it  almost 


304  JOHN  MA  K CH,   SO  U  TIIERXER 

empty.  Two  or  three  snug  nooks  in  it  were  occupied 
by  one  couple  each.  Leviticus  was  majestically  super 
intending  the  coming  and  going  of  three  ur  four  maid 
servants.  Just  as  he  gathered  himself  up  to  define  a 
jamboree,  Virginia  happened  in  and  stood  with  a  coffee- 
cup  half  wiped,  eying  him  with  quizzical  approbation. 

"A  jamboree?  Yon  want  to  know  what  constitutes 
a  jamboree?  Well — What  you  want,  Fudjinia?  " 

"  Go  on,  seh,  go  on.  Don't  let  me  amba'as  you.  I 
wants  jess  on'y  my  civil  rights.  Go  on,  seh."  She  set 
her  arms  akimbo. 

"A  jamboree!  "  repeated  Leviticus,  giving  himself  a 
yet  more  benevolent  dignity.  "  Well,  you  know,  Miss 
Barb,  to  ev'y thing  they  is  a  season,  an'  a  time  to  cv'y 
puppose.  A  wedd'n'  is  a  wedd'n',  a  infare  is  a  infare, 
a  Chris'mus  dinnch  is  a  Chris'mus  dinneh  !  But  now, 
when  you  come  to  a  jamboree — a  jam — Fudjinia" — he 
smiled  an  affectionate  persuasion — "  we  ain't  been  ap- 
pi'nted  the  chiefs  o'  this  evenin's  transactions  to  stan' 
idlin'  round,  is  we  ?  " 

"Go  on,  seh,  go  on." 

"Well,  you  know,  Mr.  Fair,  when  we  South'enehs 
speak  of  a  jamboree,  a  jamboree  is  any  getherin'  where 
in  the  objec'  o'  the  getherin'  is  the  puppose  fo'  which 
they  come  togetheh,  an'  the  joy  and  the  jumble  ah 
equal  if  not  superiah  to  each  otheh." 

Virginia  brought  up  a  grunt  from  very  far  down, 
which  might  have  been  either  admiration  or  amuse 
ment.  "Umpli!  dat  is  a  jamboree,  faw  a  fac' !  I 
wond'  ef  he  git  dat  furn  de  books  aw  ef  he  pick  it  out'n 
his  own  lahnin'  ?  " 


305 


"Miss  Garnet,"  said  Fair,  "there  are  wheels  within 
wheels.     I  am  having  a  jamboree  of  my  own." 


LI. 

BUSINESS 

"  Tins,"  replied  Barbara,  "  has  been  a  bright  day  for 
our  whole  town."  And  then,  more  pensively,  "  They 
say  you  could  have  made  it  brighter." 

Whereat  the  young  man  lowered  his  voice.  "  Miss 
Garnet,  I  had  hoped  I  could." 

"  And  I  had  hoped  you  would." 

"  Miss  Garnet,  honestly,  I'm  glad  I  did  not  know  it 
at  the  meeting.  It  was  hard  enough  to  disappoint  Mr. 
March  ;  but  to  know  that  I  was  failing  to  meet  a  hope 
of  yours — " 

Presently  he  added  : 

"  Your  hope  implied  a  certain  belief  in  me.  Have  I 
diminished  that  ?  " 

"  Why-y,  no-o,  Mr.  Fair,  you've  rather  aug-men-ted 
it." 

He  brightened  almost  playfully.  "  Miss  Garnet,  you 
give  me  more  pleasure  than  I  can  quietly  confess." 

"  Why,  I  didn't  intend  to  do  that." 

"  To  be  trusted  by  you  is  a  glad  honor." 

"  Well,  I  do  trust  you,  Mr.  Fair.  I'm  trusting  you 
now — to  trust  me — that  I  really  want  to  talk — man- 
talk.  As  a  rule,"  continued  Barbara,  putting  away  her 


306  JOHN  MA  R  C/f,  SO  U  TIIERNER 

playfulness,  "when  a  young  lady  wants  to  talk  pure 
business,  she'd  better  talk  with  her  father,  don't  you 
think  so  ? " 

"As  a  rule,  yes.  And,  as  a  rule,  I  make  no  doubt 
that's  what  you  would  do." 

Barbara's  reply  was  meditative.  "  One  reason  why 
I  want  to  talk  about  this  business  at  all  this  evening  is 
also  a  strong  reason  why  I  don't  talk  about  it  to  pop-a." 

"  I  see ;  he's  almost  as  fascinated  with  it  as  Mr. 
March  is." 

"  It  means  so  very  much  to  the  college,  Mr.  Fair, 
and  you  know  he's  always  been  over  eyes  and  ears  in 
love  with  it;  it's  his  life."  She  paused  and  then 
serenely  seized  the  strategic  point  at  which  she  had 
hours  before  decided  to  begin  this  momentous  invasion. 
"Mr.  Fair,  why,  do  you  reckon,  Mr.  Ravenel  has  con 
sented  to  act  as  commissioner  ?  " 

Fair  laughed.     "  You  mean  is  it  trust  or  distrust  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  which  do  you  reckon  it  is  ?  " 

He  laughed  again.     "  I'm  not  good  at  reckoning." 

"  You  can  guess,"  she  said  archly. 

"  Yes,  we  can  both  do  that.  Miss  Garnet,  I  don't 
believe  your  father  is  actuated  by  distrust ;  he  believes 
in  the  scheme.  You,  I  take  it,  do  not,  and  you  are 
solicitous  for  him.  Do  I  not  guess  rightly  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  I'm  more  solicitous  than  a  daughter 
should  be.  Pop  a  has  only  me,  you  know.  Didn't  you 
believe  in  Mr.  March's  plan  at  one  time,  sir?" 

"I  believed  thoroughly,  as  I  do  still,  in  Mr.  March. 
I  also  had,  and  still  have,  some  belief  in  his  plan;  but" 
— confidentially — "  I  have  no  belief  in " 


BUSINESS  307 

"Certain  persons,"  said  Barbara  so  slowly  and 
absently  that  Fair  smiled  again  as  he  said  yes.  They 
sat  in  silence  for  some  time.  Then  Barbara  said,  med 
itatively,  "  If  even  Mr.  March  could  only  be  made  to 
see  that  certain  persons  ought  not  to  have  part  in  his 
enterprise — but  you  can't  tell  him  that.  I  didn't  see 
it  so  until  now.  It  would  seem  like  pique." 

"  Or  a  counter  scheme,"  said  Fair.  "  Would  you 
wish  him  told  ?  " 

"  You  admit  I  have  a  right  to  a  daughter's  solic 
itude?" 

"  Surely !  "  Fair  pondered  a  moment.  "  Miss 
Garnet,  if  the  opportunity  oilers,  I  am  more  than 
willing  you  should  say  to  Mr.  March " 

u  I  rarely  meet  him,  but  still " 

"  That  I  expressed  to  you  my  conviction  that  unless    i 
he  gets  rid  of " 

"  Certain "  said  Barbara. 

"  Persons,"  said  Fair,  "  his  scheme  will  end  in  loss  to 
his  friends  and  in  ruin  to  him." 

"  And  would  that  be  " — Barbara  rose  dreamily — "  a 
real  service  to  pop-a  ?  " 

Fair  gave  his  arm.  "I  think  it  the  best  you  can 
render  ;  only,  your  father —  He  began  to  smile, 

but  she  lifted  a  glance  as  utterly  without  fear  as  without 
hardihood  and  said : 

"  I  understand.  He  must  never  know  it's  been 
done." 

"  That's  more  than  I  meant,"  he  replied,  as  Fannie 
Halliday  came  up.  The  two  girls  went  for  their  wraps. 

"  March  ? "  said  Kavenel,  as  he  and  Fair  waited  to 


308  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

escort  them  home.  "  O,  no,  he  left  some  time  ago 
with  bis  mother." 

On  the  way  to  the  Halliday  cottage  Fair  said  to 
Barbara : 

"  I'm  glad  of  the  talk  we've  had." 

"  You  can  afford  to  be  so,  Mr.  Fair.  It  showed  your 
generosity  against  the  background  of  my  selfishness." 

"Selfishness?  Surely  it  isn't  selfish  to  show  a  daugh 
ter's  care  and  affection  for  a  father." 

By  her  hand  on  his  arm  he  felt  her  shrink  at  the  last 
word.  "  I  love  my  father,  yes.  But  you're  making 
mistakes  about  me.  Let's  talk  about  Miss  Fannie ; 
she'll  only  be  Miss  Fannie  about  two  weeks  longer. 
You  ought  to  stay  to  see  her  married,  Mr.  Fair." 

"And  you  are  to  be  bridesmaid!  But  I  nnitf  go 
to-morrow.  I  wish  my  father  and  mother  could  reach 
here  in  time  on  their  way  home  from  New  Orleans, 
but  when  they  get  this  far  your  bridal  party  will  have 
been  two  days  married  and  gone." 

Barbara  mused  a  moment.  "You  know,  this  plan 
for  me  to  give  a  year  to  study  in  the  North  has  been 
as  much  mine  as  pop-a's ;  but  pop-a's  entirely  responsi 
ble  for  putting  me  into  your  father's  and  mother's  care 
on  the  journey.  I've  been  in  a  state  of  alarm  ever 
since." 

"  Really,  that's  wrong !  You're  going  to  be  a  source 
of  great  pleasure  to  them.  And  you'll  like  them,  too, 
very  much.  They  are  interesting  in  many  ways  and 
good  in  all,  and  as  travelers  they  are  perfect." 

"  You  give  me  new  courage,  Mr.  Fair.  But  " — she 
spoke  more  playfully — "  I'm  afraid  of  New  England, 


B  U  SI  NESS  309 

yet.  There's  a  sort  of  motherly  quality  in  our  climate 
that  I  can't  expect  to  find  there.  Won't  the  snow  be 
still  on  the  ground  ?  " 

"Very  likely  ;  the  higher  mountain  tops, at  least,  will 
be  quite  covered." 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  that  doesn't  mean  what  I  once 
thought  it  did.  I  thought  the  snow  in  New  England 
covered  the  mountain  tops  the  same  way  the  waters  cov 
ered  them  in  the  Deluge." 

Fair  looked  down  into  his  companion's  face  under 
the  leafy  moonlight  and  halted  in  a  quick  glow  of  in 
spiration.  "When  first  you  see  New  England,  Miss 
Garnet,  nature  will  have  been  lying  for  four  months  in 
white,  sacramental  silence.  But  presently  you  will  de 
tect  a  growing  change " 

"  A  stealing  out  of  captivity  ?  " 

"  Yes  ! — each  step  a  little  quicker  than  the  one  behind 
it —  So  he  went  on  for  a  full  minute  in  praise  of 

the  New  England  spring. 

Barbara  listened  with  the  delight  all  girls  have  for 
flowers  of  speecli  plucked  for  themselves. 

"You  know,"  she  responded,  as  they  moved  on  again, 
"  it  doesn't  come  easy  for  us  Southerners  to  think  of 
your  country  as  being  beautiful ;  but  we  notice  that 
nearly  all  the  landscapes  in  our  books  are  made  in 
'barren  New  England/  and  we  have  a  pri-vate  cu-ri- 
os-i-ty  to  know  how  you  all  in- vent  them." 

"  If  New  England  should  not  charm  you,  Miss  Garnet," 
—Fair  hurried  his  words  as  they  drew  near  Ravenel 
and  Fannie  waiting  at  the  cottage  gate — "  my  disap 
pointment  would  last  me  all  my  life." 


310  JOHN  HI  A  R  CIS,  SO  UTHERXER 

"  Why,  so  it  would  me,"  said  Barbara,  "  but  I  do  not 
expect  it.  Well,  Fannie,  Mr.  Fair  lias  at  last  been  de 
coyed  into  praising  his  native  land.  Think  of "  She 

hushed. 

A  strong  footstep  approached,  and  John  March  came 
out  of  the  gloom  of  the  trees,  saluting  buoyantly.  I\av- 
enel  reached  sidewise  for  his  hand  and  detained  him. 

"  I  took  my  mother  away  early,"  said  March.  "  She 
can't  bear  a  crowd  long.  I  was  feeling  so  fatigued,  my 
self,  I  thought  a  brisk  walk  might  he]})  me.  You  still 
think  you  must  go  to-morrow,  Mr.  Fair  ?  I  go  North, 
myself,  in  about  a  week." 

The  two  girls  expressed  surprise. 

"  For  the  laud  company  ?  "  quickly  prompted  Fannie. 

"  Yes,  principally.  I'll  take  my  mother's  poems  along 
and  give  them  to  some  good  publisher.  O  no-o,  it's  not 
exactly  a  sudden  decision  ;  its  taken  me  all  day  to  make 
it.  My  mother — O — no,  she  seems  almost  resigned  to 
my  going,  but  it's  hard  to  tell  about  my  mother,  Miss 
Garnet ;  she  has  a  wonderful  control  of  her  feelings." 


LII. 

DARKNESS    AND    DOUBT 

THE  paragraph  in  the  Courier  which  purported  to 
tell  the  movements  of  Mrs.  March  silently  left  its  read 
ers  to  guess  those  of  her  son.  Two  men  whose  abiding- 
places  lay  in  different  directions  away  from  Suez  had  no 


DA RKXE SS  A ND  DOUBT  311 

sooner  made  their  two  guesses  than  they  proceeded  to 
act  upon  them  without  knowledge  of,  or  reference  to,  the 
other. 

About  an  hour  after  dark  on  the  night  of  the  golden 
wedding  both  these  men  were  riding,  one  northward,  the 
other  southward,  toward  each  other  on  the  Wide  wood 
road.  Widewood  house  was  between  them.  Both 
moved  with  a  wary  slowness  and  looked  and  listened  in 
tently,  constantly,  and  in  every  direction. 

AVhen  one  had  ridden  within  a  hundred  yards  or  so 
•if  the  Widewood  house  and  the  other  was  not  much 
farther  away,  the  rider  coming  up  from  the  southward 
stopped,  heard  the  tread  of  the  horse  approaching  in 
front,  and  in  hasty  trepidation  turned  his  own  animal  a 
few  steps  aside  in  the  forest.  He  would  have  made 
them  more  but  for  the  tell-tale  crackle  of  dead  branches 
strewed  underfoot  by  the  March  winds.  He  sat  for  a 
long  time  very  quiet,  peering  and  hearkening.  But  the 
other  had  heard,  or  at  least  thought  he  had  heard,  the 
crackle  of  dead  branches,  and  was  taking  the  same  pre 
cautions. 

The  advantage,  however,  was  with  the  rider  from  the 
south,  who  knew,  while  the  other  only  feared,  there  was 
something  ahead  it  were  better  to  see  than  be  seen  by. 
About  the  same  time  the  one  concluded  his  ears  might 
have  deceived  him,  the  other  had  divined  exactly  what 
had  happened.  Thereupon  the  shrewder  man  tied  his 
horse  and  stole  noiselessly  to  a  point  from  whose  dense 
shade  he  could  see  a  short  piece  of  the  road  and  the 
house  standing  out  in  the  moonlight. 

The  only  two  front  windows  in  it    that   had  shades 


312  JOHN  MA  R  CII,  SO  U  THERNER 

were  in  Mrs.  March's  bed-chamber.  The  room  was 
brightly  lighted  and  the  shades  drawn  down.  The  rest 
of  the  house  was  quite  dark.  The  man  hiding  so  near 
these  signs  noted  them,  but  drew  no  hasty  conclusions. 
lie  hoped  to  consider  them  later,  but  his  first  need  was 
to  know7  who,  or,  at  least  where,  the  person  was  whom  he 
had  heard  upon  the  road. 

Though  already  well  hidden  he  crouched  behind  a 
log,  and  upon  the  piece  of  road  and  every  shadowy  cover 
of  possible  approach  threw  forward  an  alert  scrutiny 
supported  by  the  whole  force  of  his  shrewdest  conjec 
tures.  The  sounds  and  silences  that  belong  to  the  night 
in  field  and  forest  were  far  and  near.  Across  the  moon 
a  mottled  cloud  floated  with  the  slowness  of  a  sleeping 
fish,  a  second,  third,  and  fourth  as  slowly  followed, 
the  shadow  of  a  dead  tree  crawled  over  a  white  stone 
and  left  it  in  the  light ;  but  the  enigma  remained  an 
enigma  still.  It  might  be  that  the  object  of  conjecture 
had  fled  in  the  belief  that  the  conjecturer  was  none 
other  than  Wide  wood's  master.  But,  in  that  same  be 
lief,  who  could  say  he  might  not  be  lying  in  ambush 
within  close  gunshot  of  the  horse  to  which  the  conjec 
turer  dared  not  now  return?  In  those  hills  a  man 
would  sometimes  lie  whole  days  in  ambush  for  a  neigh 
bor,  and  one  need  not  be  a  coward  to  shudder  at  the 
chance  of  being  assassinated  by  mistake.  To  wait  on 
was  safest,  but  it  was  very  tedious.  Yet  soon  enough, 
and  near  and  sudden  enough,  seemed  the  appearance  of 
the  man  waited  for,  when  at  length,  without  a  warning 
sound,  he  issued  from  the  bushy  shadow  of  a  fence  into 
the  bright  dooryard.  In  his  person  he  was  not  formida- 


DA  RKXE  SS  A  Ar/>  D  0  UB  T  313 

ble.  He  was  of  less  than  medium  stature,  lightly  built, 
and  apparently  neither  sinewy  nor  agile.  But  in  his 
grasp  was  something  long  and  slender,  much  concealed 
by  his  own  shadow,  but  showing  now  a  glint  of  bright 
metal  and  now  its  dark  cylindrical  end ;  something  that 
held  the  eye  of  the  one  who  watched  him  from  out  the 
shadow'.  Neither  the  features  nor  yet  the  complexion 
of  the  one  he  watched  were  discernible,  but  the  eyes 
were  evidently  on  a  third  window  of  the  lighted  room 
not  at  its  front,  but  on  a  side  invisible  to  the  watcher. 
This  person  rose  from  his  log  and  moved  as  speedily  as 
he  could  iii  silence  and  shadow  until  he  came  round  in 
sight  of  this  window  and  behind  the  other  figure.  Then 
he  saw  what  had  so  tardily  emboldened  the  figure  to 
come  forward  out  of  hiding.  This  window  also  had  a 
shade,  the  shade  was  lowered,  and  on  it  the  unseen  lamp 
perfectly  outlined  the  form  of  a  third  person.  Without 
a  mutter  or  the  slightest  gesture  of  passion,  the  man 
under  the  window  raised  the  thing  in  his  grasp  as  high 
as  his  shoulder,  lowered  it  again  and  glanced  around. 
He  seemed  to  tremble.  The  man  at  his  back  did  not 
move ;  his  gaze,  too,  was  now  fastened,  with  liveliest 
manifestations  of  interest,  on  the  window-shade  and  the 
moving  image  that  darkened  it. 

As  the  foremost  of  the  two  men  began  for  the  third 
time  that  mysterious  movement  which  he  had  twice  left 
unfinished,  the  one  behind,  now  clearly  discerning  his 
intention,  stole  one  step  forward,  and  then  a  second,  as 
if  to  spring  upon  him  before  he  could  complete  the  ac 
tion.  But  he  was  not  quick  enough.  The  black  and 
glistening  thing  rose  once  more  to  the  level  of  its  own- 


314  JOHN  MA  R  CH,  SOU  THER.\  rER 

er's  shoulder,  and  the  next  instant  on  the  still  night  air 
quivered  the  plaintive  wail  of — a  flute. 

At  mortal  risks  both  conjectured  and  imconjectured, 
it  was  an  instrument  of  music,  not  of  murder,  which 
Mr.  Dimviddie  Pettigrew  was  aiming  sidewise. 


SWEETNESS    AND    LIGHT 

YET  the  pulse  of  the  man  behind  him,  who  did  not 
recognize  him,  began  to  quicken  with  anger.  Almost 
at  the  flute's  first  note  the  image  on  the  window-shade 
started  and  hearkened.  A  moment  later  it  expanded  to 
grotesque  proportions,  the  room  swiftly  grew  dark,  and 
in  another  minute  the  window  of  a  smaller  one  behind 
it  shone  dimly  as  with  the  flame  of  a  lamp  turned  low. 
The  flutist  fluted  on.  From  the  melody  it  appeared 
that  the  musician  had  at  some  date  not  indicated, 
and  under  some  unaccountable  influence,  dreamt  that 
he  dwelt  in  marble  halls  with  vassals  and  serfs  at  his 
side.  The  man  at  his  back  had  conic  as  near  as  the 
darkness  would  cover  him,  but  there  had  .stopped. 

Presently  the  music  ceased,  but  another  sound, 
sweeter  than  all  music,  kissed,  as  it  were,  the  serenader's 
ear.  It  was  the  wary  lifting  of  a  window-sash.  He 
ran  forward  into  the  narrow  shade  of  the  house  itself, 
and  lost  to  the  restraints  of  reason,  carried  away  on 
transports  of  love,  without  hope  of  any  reply,  whispered, 


SWEETNESS  AND  LIGHT  315 

"  Daphne !  " 

And  a  tender  whisper  came  back — "  Wait  a  minute." 

"  You'll  come  down  ?  "  he  whisperously  asked  ;  but 
the  window  closed  on  his  words,  the  dim  light  vanished, 
and  all  was  still. 

He  was  watching,  on  his  left,  the  batten  shutters  of 
the  sitting-room,  when  a  small,  unnoticed  door  near  the 
dark,  rear  corner  of  the  house  clicked  and  then  faintly 
creaked.  Mr.  Pettigrew  became  one  tremolo  of  ecstasy. 
He  glided  to  the  spot,  not  imagining  even  then  that  he 
was  to  be  granted  more  than  a  moment's  interview 
through  an  inch  or  two  of  opening,  when  what  was  his 
ioy  to  see  the  door  swiftly  spread  wide  inward  by  a  dim 
figure  that  extended  her  arms  in  gracious  invitation. 

"  0  love ! "  was  all  his  passion  could  murmur  as  they 
clasped  in  the  blessed  dark,  while  she,  not  waiting  to 
hear  word  or  voice,  rubbed  half  the  rice  powder  and 
rouge  from  her  lips  and  cheeks  to  his  and  cried, 

"  O  you  sweet,  speckle',  yalleh  niggeh  liah,  you  toF 
me  you  on'y  play  de  fife  in  de  similitude  o'  ligislation!  " 

As  Dinwiddie  silently  but  violently  recoiled  Daphne 
Jane  half  stifled  a  scream,  sprang  through  a  stair  door, 
shot  the  bolt  and  rushed  upstairs.  At  the  same  instant 
he  heard  behind  him  a  key  slipped  from  its  lock.  He 
glanced  back  in  affright,  and  trembling  on  legs  too 
limp  to  lift,  dimly  saw  the  outer  door  swing  to.  As 
the  darkness  changed  to  blackness  he  heard  the  key 
re-enter  its  lock  and  turn  on  the  outside.  The  pirate 
was  a  prisoner. 

Daphne  Jane,  locking  everything  as  she  fled,  whirled 
iuto  her  mistress's  room  and  out  of  her  mistress's  clothes. 


316  JOHN  MA  R  CSS,  SO  U  T1IERNER 

Though  quaking  with  apprehension  so  that  she  could 
scarcely  button  her  own  things  on  again,  she  was  filled 
with  the  joy  of  adventure  and  a  revel  of  vanity  and 
mirth.  The  moment  she  could  complete  her  change  of 
dress  and  whisk  her  borrowed  fineries  back  into  their 
places  she  stole  to  a  window  over  the  door  by  which  she 
had  let  the  serenader  in,  softly  opened  it,  and  was 
alarmed  afresh  to  hear  two  voices. 

The  words  of  the  one  in  the  room  were  quite  indis 
tinguishable,  but  those  from  the  other  on  the  outside, 
though  uttered  in  a  half  whisper,  were  clear  enough. 

"No,  seh,  I  ain't  dead-sho'  who  you  is,  but  I  has  ez- 
amine  yo'  boss,  an'  whilce  I  wouldn'  swear  you  ah  Mr. 
Pettigrew,  thass  the  premonition  I  espec'  to  esprcss  to 
my  frien'  Mr.  March,  lessn  you  tell  me  now,  an'  tell  me 
true,  who  you  ah. 

"  Yass,  seh,  I  thought  so.  Yass,  seh.  No,  seh,  I 
know  they  ain't  a  minute  to  lose,  but  still  I  think  the 
time  ain't  quite  so  pow'ful  prcssin'  to  me  like  what  it 
is  to  you ;  I  thought  jess  now  I  hyeard  buggy- wheels, 
but  mcbbe  I  didn't. 

"  Yass,  seh,  I  doe*  think  I  has  cause,  if  not  to  be 
mad,  leas'wise  to  be  ve'y  much  paained.  You  fus'  kiss 
the  young  lady  I  destine  faw  my  sultana,  an'  now  you 
offeh  me  a  briibe !  Well,  thass  how  I  unde'stood  it, 
seh. 

"  Seh  ?  No,  seh  !  that  wouldn't  be  high  tone' !  But 
I  tell  you  what  I  will  do,  seh.  I'll  let  you  out  an' 
take  yo'  place  an'  make  the  young  lady  think  her  on'y 
mistake  was  a-thinkin'  she  was  mistakened. 

"Seh?      Yass,   I'm  jess    that    se'f-sacrificin'.      I'm 


SWEETXESS  AND  LIGHT  317 

gcn'ous  as  the  whistlin'  win'.  An'  I'll  neveh  whisp'  a 
breath  o'  all  this  shaameful  procedu'e  evm  to  my  dear 
fricn'  March,  ef  so  be  that — an'  so  long  as — yo'  grati- 
chude — sell  ? 

"  0  nothin'.  I  wus  jess  a-listenin'  ef  that  soun'  was 
buggy  wheels,  but  I  know  that  don't  make  no  ditf'ence 
to  you,  yo'  courage  is  so  vas'.  I'm  the  bravess  o'  the 
brave,  myseff,  an'  yit  jess  to  think  o'  takin'  yo'  place 
fills  me  as  full  o'»cole  shivehs  as  a  pup  und'  a  pump. 

"Seh?  O  I  say  I'll  ncveh  whisp'  it  so  long  as  yo' 
gratichude  continue  to  evince  itseff  fresh  an'  lively  at 
the  rate  of  evm  on'y  a  few  dollahs  per  month  as  a  sawt 
o'  friendship's  ofTerin'. 

"Seh?  I  cayift  hc'p  it,  seh  ;  thass  the  ve'y  bes'  I 
can  do ;  no  otheh  co'se  would  be  hon'able." 

The  listening  maid  heard  the  door  unlock  and  open 
and  beheld  liberty  bartered  for  captivity  with  love  for 
boot,  and  Mr.  Pettigrew  speed  like  a  phantom  across 
the  moonlight  and  vanish  in  the  woods.  Before  she 
could  leave  the  window  a  sound  of  galloping  hoofs  told 
at  last  the  coming  of  John  March.  Cornelius  had 
barely  time  to  scamper  out  into  the  night  when  the 
master  of  Widewood  came  trotting  around  the  corner 
of  the  house  and  thence  off  to  the  stable,  never  to  know 
of  the  farce  which  made  Mr.  Pettigrew  thereafter  the 
tool  of  Leggett,  and  which  might  even  more  easily  have 
been  a  tragedy  with  the  mountain  people  for  actors  and 
himself  its  victim. 


318      JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 


LIV. 

AN    UNEXPECTED    PLEASURE 

RAVENEL  and  Fannie  were  married  in  church  on  an 
afternoon.  The  bridesmaids  were  Barbara  and  a  very 
pretty  cousin  of  Fannie's  from  Pulaski  City,  who  would 
have  been  prettier  yet  had  she  not  been  revel-worn. 
The  crowded  company  was  dotted  with  notables ;  Gar 
net  and  Gamble  took  excellent  care  of  the  governor. 
But  the  bride's  father  was  the  finest  figure  of  all. 

"  Old  Ilalliday  looks  grand  !  "  said  Gamble. 

"I'm  glad  he  does,"  kindly  responded  Garnet;  "it 
would  be  a  pity  for  him  to  be  disappointed  in  himself 
on  such  an  occasion." 

Parson  Tombs  kissed  the  bride,  who,  in  a  certain 
wildness  of  grateful  surprise,  gave  him  his  kiss  back 
again  with  a  hug.  When  Haveners  sister,  from  Flat- 
rock,  said : 

"  Well,  Colonel  Ravenel,  aren't  you  going  to  kiss 
me  ?  "  he  gracefully  did  so,  as  if  pleased  to  be  reminded 
of  something  he  might  have  forgotten.  And  then  he 
kissed  the  aged  widow7  with  whom  he  had  lived  so  long. 
Her  cottage,  said  rumor,  was  not  to  be  sold,  after  all,  to 
make  room  for  the  new  brick  stores.  IS'o,  the  Salters' 
house  had  been  bought  for  that  purpose — it  was  ready 
to  tumble  down,  anyhow — and  on  Miss  Mary's  mar 
riage,  soon  to  be,  Miss  Martha  and  her  mother  would 
take  the  Ilalliday  cottage,  the  General  keeping  a  room 
or  two,  but  getting  his  meals  at  the  hotel. 


AN  UNEXPECTED  PLEASURE  319 

"  It's  a  way  of  living  I've  always  liked  !  "  he  said,  toss 
ing  his  gray  curls. 

The  bridal  pair,  everybody  understood,  were  to  leave 
Suez  on  the  Launcelot  Halliday,  and  turn  northward  by 
rail  in  the  morning  on  an  unfamilar  route. 

John  March  chose  not  to  sec  the  wedding.  He  re 
mained  in  Pulaski  City,  where  for  three  days  he  had 
been  very  busy  in  the  lobbies  of  the  Capitol,  and  was 
hoping  to  take  the  train  for  the  north  that  evening. 
Between  the  trilling  of  one  and  the  dickering  of  another, 
lie  was  delayed  to  the  last  moment ;  but  then  he  flung 
himself  into  a  shabby  hack,  paid  double  fare  for  a  pre 
tence  of  double  speed,  and  at  the  ticket  window  had  to 
be  called  back  to  get  his  pocket-book.  The  lighted  train 
was  moving  out  into  the  night  as  a  porter  jerked  him 
and  his  valise  on  to  the  rear  platform. 

He  stood  there  a  moment  alone  silently  watching  the 
lamps  of  the  town  slide  away  and  vanish.  His  thought 
was  all  of  Fannie.  She  was  Fannie  Ravenel  now.  Fate 
had  laughed  at  him.  He  calculated  that  the  pair 
must  about  this  time  be  rising  from  supper  on  the  boat. 
"  Happy  bridegroom  ! — and  happy  bride !  " 
As  the  dark  landscape  perpetually  spun  away  from 
him  he  began  with  an  inexperienced  traveler's  self-con 
sciousness  to  think  of  the  strangeness  of  his  own  situation ; 
but  very  soon  Fannie's  image  came  before  him  again  in 
a  feverish  mingling  of  gratitude  and  resentment.  Had 
she  not  made  his  life  ?  But  for  her  he  might  yet  be 
teaching  school  in  the  hills  of  Sandstone.  No  doubt  he 
would  have  outgrown  such  work  ;  but  when  ?  how  soon  ? 
how  tardily  ?  how  fatally  late  ?  She  had  lured  and 


320  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

fooled  him  ;  hut  she  had  lured  and  fooled  him  into  a 
largeness  of  purpose,  a  breadth  of  being,  which  without 
her  might  never  have  come  to  him. 

"  I  cannot  be  with  her,  I  must  not  go  near  her  ;  but  I 
am  here  !  "  he  exclaimed,  catching  a  certain  elation  from 
his  unaccustomed  speed.  "  The  prospect  may  be  desert, 
but  it's  wide  ;  it's  wide  !  " 

She  had  been  good  for  him,  he  mused,  not  to  him. 
She  had  been  wiser  than  she  meant ;  certainly  she  had 
not  been  kind.  She  was  not  cold-hearted.  His  welfare 
was  dear  to  her.  And  yet  she  had  cold-heartedly 
amused  herself  with  him.  She  was  light-minded. 
There !  The  truth  was  out !  Just  what  he  meant  by 
it  was  not  so  clear ;  but  there  it  was,  half  comforting 
him,  half  excusing  her  ;  she  was  light-minded  !  Well, 
she  was  Fannie  Ravenel  now.  "  Happy  Fannie  Rav- 
enel ! "  He  said  it  with  a  tempered  bitterness  and 
went  in. 

It  was  the  sleeping-car  he  was  on.  Two  steps  brought 
him  to  the  open  entrance  of  its  smoking-room — they 
were  enough.  With  drooping  eyelids  its  sole  occupant 
was  vacantly  smiling  at  the  failure  of  his  little  finger  to 
push  the  ash  from  a  cold  cigar. 

"  Jeff-Ja' !  "  exclaimed  March,  "  O  my  Lord  !  " 

The  bridegroom  looked  up  with  a  smart  exaggeration 
of  his  usual  cynicism  and  said,  "  J — (h-h) — Johnnie, 
this  's  'n  un'spec' — 'spected  pleasure !  " 

"  I  thought  you  were  aboard  the —  "  faltered  John, 
and  stood  dumb,  gnawing  his  lip  and  burning  with 
emotions. 

"  John,  o'  frien',  take  a  chair."    The  speaker  waved  a 


AN  UNEXPECTED  PLEASURE  321 

hand  in  tipsy  graciousness.  "  What  made  you  think  I 
was  aboard — I  look  like  one  ?  Wka' — (h-h) — kind  o' 
board — sideboard  ?  S'  down,  John,  make  'seff  at  home. 
Ilappm  have  cars  all  t'  ourselves.  Mr.  March,  this  's 
uffbrshnate,  ain't  it?  Don't  y'  sink  so?  One  o'  my 
p'culiar  'tacks.  Come  on  'tirely  since  leavin'  Suez. 
Have — (h-h) — seat.  My  dear  frien',  I  know  what  you're 
thinkin'  'bout.  You're  won'rin'  where  bride  is  an'  feel 
del'cacy  'bout  askin'.  She's  in  state-room  oth'  end  the 
car,  locked  in.  She's  not  'zactly  locked  in,  but  I'm 
locked  out,  Mrs.  Raveuel  is — (h-h) — annoyed  at  this, 
Mr.  March  ;  ve'y  mush  annoyed." 

He  put  on  a  frown.  "  John,  '11  you  do  me  a — (h-h) — 
favor  ? " 

"  I'm  afraid  I  can't,  Ravenel.  I've  a  good  notion  to 
get  off  at  the  next  station." 

"  Tha's  jus'  what  I's  goin'  t'  ash  yout'  do.  I'll  stan' 
'speuce,  John.  You  shan't  lose  anything." 

"  0  no,  if  I  get  off  I'll  stand  the  expense  myself. 
You've  lost  enough  already,  Jeff-Jack." 

"  No,  sir  ;  I'll  stan'  'spence.  I  can  be  gen'rous  you 
are.  Or  'f  you'll  stay  'n'  take  care  Mrs.  Ravenel  I'll — 
(h-h)— get  offm'sefl'!" 

John  shook  his  head,  took  up  his  bag  and  returned 
to  the  rear  platform. 

The  train  had  stopped  and  was  off  again,  when  the 
porter  came  looking  everywhere,  the  rear  platform  in 
cluded. 

"  Wliah  dat  gemman  what  get  on  at  P'laski  City  ?  " 

Ravenel  waved  his  cigar. 

"  He's  out  in  back  garden  pickin'  flowers  !     Porter — 


322  JOHN  MARCH,   SOUTHERNER 

you — f — ond  o'  flowers  ?  'F  you  want  to  go  an'  pick  some 
I'll — (h-h) — take  care  car  for  you.  Porter !— here  ! — I— 
(h-h) — don't  want  to  be  misleading.  Mr.  March's  simply 
stepped  out  s — see  'f  he  can  find  a  f — four-leaf  clover." 


LV. 

HOME-SICKNESS    ALLEVIATED 

ON  the  second  morning  after  the  wedding  and  next 
trip  of  this  train,  the  sleeping-car  was  nearly  half  filled 
with  passengers  by  the  time  it  was  a  night's  run  from 
Pulaski  City.  To  let  the  porter  put  their  two  sections 
in  order,  a  party  of  three,  the  last  except  one  to  come 
out  of  the  btrths,  had  to  look  around  twice  for  a  good 
place  in  which  to  sit  together.  They  were  regarded  with 
interest. 

"  High-steppers,"  remarked  a  very  large-eared  com 
mercial  traveler  to  another. 

"  The  girl's  beautiful,"  replied  the  other,  remembering 
that  he  was  freshly  shaved  and  was  not  bad-looking  him 
self. 

"Yes,"  said  the  first,  "but  the  other  two  are  better 
than  that ;  they're  comfortable.  They're  done  raising 
children  and  ain't  had  any  bad  luck  with  'em,  and 
they've  got  lots  of  tin.  If  that  ain't  earthly  bliss  I'll 
bet  you !  " 

"  They're  gett'n'  lots  of  entertainment  out  of  that 
daughter,  seems  like," 


HOME- SICKNESS  ALLE  VIA  TED  323 

"  Reason  why,  she's  not  their  daughter." 

"  How  d'you  know  she's  not  ?  " 

"  I  mustn't  tell — breach  o'  confidence.     Guess." 

"01  guess  you're  guessing.  George !  she's — what 
makes  you  think  she's  not  their  daughter  ?  " 

"  O  nothin',  only  I'm  a  man  of  discernment,  and  be 
sides  I  just  now  heard  'em  call  her  Miss  Garnet." 

Their  attention  was  diverted  by  the  porter  saying  at 
the  only  section  still  curtained,  "  Breakfus'  at  next  stop, 
seh.  No,  seh,  it's  yo'  on'y  chaynce  till  dinneh,  seh.  Seh  ? 
No,  seh,  not  till  one  o'clock  dis  afternoon,  seh." 

"  Is  that  gentleman  sick  ?  "  asked  the  younger  com 
mercial  man,  wishing  Miss  Garnet  to  know  what  a  high 
bred  voice  and  tender  heart  he  had. 

"  Who  ?  numb'  elevm  ?  Humph  !  he  ain't  too  sick  to 
be  cross.  Say  he  ain't  sleep  none  fo'  two  nights.  But 
he's  gitt'n'  up  now." 

The  solicitous  traveler  secured  a  seat  at  table  oppo 
site  Miss  Gurnet  and  put  more  majestic  gentility  into  his 
breakfasting  than  he  had  ever  done  before.  Once  he 
pushed  the  sugar  most  courteously  to  the  lady  she  was 
with,  and  once,  with  polished  deference,  he  was  asking 
the  gentleman  if  he  could  reach  the  butter,  when  a  tardy 
comer  was  shown  in  and  given  the  chair  next  him.  As 
this  person,  a  young  man  as  stalwart  as  he  was  handsome, 
was  about  to  sit  down,  he  started  with  surprise  and  ex 
claimed  to  Miss  Garnet, 

"  Why  !  You've  begun Why,  are  we  on  the 

same  train  ? " 

And  she  grew  visibly  prettier  as  she  replied  smilingly, 

"  You  must  be  Number  Eleven,  are  you  not  ?  " 


324  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

Coming  out  of  the  place  the  young  lady's  admirer 
heard  her  introduce  Number  Eleven  to  "  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Fair,"  and  Mr.  Fair,  looking  highly  pleased,  say, 

"  I  don't  think  I  ever  should  have  recognized  you  !  " 

Something  kept  the  train,  and  as  he  was  joined  by  his 
large-eared  friend — who  had  breakfasted  at  the  sand 
wich  counter — he  said, 

"  See  that  young  fellow  talking  to  Mr.  Fair  ?  That's 
the  famous  John  Marsh,  owner  of  the  Widewood  lands. 
He's  one  of  the  richest  young  men  in  Dixie.  When 
ever  lie  wants  cash  all  he's  got  to  do  is  to  go  out  and  cut 
a  few  more  telegraph-poles — O  laugh  if  you  feel  like  it, 
but  I  heard  Miss  Garnet  tell  her  friends  so  just  now, 
and  I'll  bet  my  head  on  anything  that  girl  says."  The 
firm  believer  relighted  his  cigar,  adding  digressively, 
"  I've  just  discovered  she's  a  sister-in-law  " — puff,  puff— 
"  of  my  old  friend,  General  Halliday  " — puff,  puff— - 
"president  of  Rosemont  College.  Well,  away  we  go." 

The  train  swept  on,  the  smoking-room  filled.  The 
drummer  with  the  large  ears  let  his  companion  intro 
duce  "  Mr.  Marsh "  to  him,  and  was  presently  so 
pleased  with  the  easy,  open,  and  thoroughly  informed 
way  in  which  this  wealthy  young  man  discussed  cigars 
and  horses  that  he  put  aside  his  own  reserve,  told  a 
risky  story,  and  manfully  complimented  the  cleanness 
of  the  one  with  which  Mr.  March  followed  suit. 

A  traveling  man's  life,  he  further  said,  was  a  rough 
one  and  got  a  fellow  into  bad  ways.  There  wasn't  a 
blank  bit  of  real  good  excuse  for  it,  but  it  was  so. 

No,  there  wasn't !  responded  his  fellow-craftsman. 
For  his  part  he  liked  to  go  to  church  once  in  a  while 


HOME- SICKXE SS  A LLE  VIA  TED  325 

and  wasn't  ashamed  to  say  so.  His  mother  was  a  good 
Baptist.  Some  men  objected  to  the  renting  of  pews, 
but,  in  church  or  out  of  it,  he  didn't  see  wThy  a  rich 
man  shouldn't  have  what  lie  was  willing  to  pay  for,  as 
well  as  a  poor  man.  Whereupon  a  smoker,  hitherto 
silent,  said,  with  an  oratorical  gesture, 

"  Lift  up  your  heads,  O  ye  gates,  the  rich  and  the  poor 
meet  together,  yet  the  Lord  is  the  maker  of  them 
all !  " 

March  left  them  deep  in  theology.  He  found  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Fair  half  hid  in  newspapers,  and  Miss  Garnet 
with  a  volume  of  poems. 

"  How  beautiful  the  country  is,"  she  said  as  she  made 
room  for  him  at  her  side.  "  I  can  neither  write  my 
diary  nor  read  my  book." 

"  Do  you  notice,"  replied  he,  "  that  the  spring  here  is 
away  behind  ours? " 

"  Yes,  sir.  By  night,  I  suppose,  we'll  be  where  it's 
hardly  spring  at  all  yet." 

"  We'll  be  out  of  Dixie,"  said  John,  looking  far 
away. 

"  Xow,  Mr.  March,"  responded  Barbara,  with  a  smile 
of  sweetest  resentment,  "  you're  ag-grav-a-ting  my  nos- 
tal-gia ! " 

To  the  younger  commercial  traveler  her  accents 
sounded  like  the  wavelets  on  a  beach ! 

"  "Why,  I  declare,  Miss  Garnet,  I  don't  want  to  do 
that.  If  you'll  help  me  cure  mine  I'll  do  all  you'll  let 
me  do  to  cure  yours." 

Barbara  was  pensive.  "  I  think  mine  must  be  worse 
than  yours ;  I  don't  want  it  cu-ured." 


326  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

"  Well,  I  didn't  mean  cured,  either ;  I  only  meant 
solaced." 

"  But,  Mr.  March,  I — why,  my  home-sickness  is  for 
all  Dixie.  I  always  knew  I  loved  it,  but  I  never  knew 
how  much  till  now." 

"  Miss  Garnet !  "  softly  exclaimed  John  with  such  a 
serious  brightness  of  pure  fellowship  that  Barbara 
dropped  her  gaze  to  her  book. 

"  Isn't  it  right  ?  "  she  asked,  playfully. 

"  Right  ?  If  it  isn't  then  I'm  wrong  from  centre  to 
circumference ! " 

"  Why,  I'm  glad  it's  so  com-pre-hen-sive-ly  cor-rect." 

The  commercial  traveler  hid  his  smile. 

"  It's  about  all  I  learned  at  Montrose,"  she  con- 
\  tinned.  "  But,  Mr.  March,  what  is  it  in  the  South  we 
Southerners  love  so  ?  Mr.  Fair  asked  me  this  morning 
and  when  I  couldn't  explain  he  laughed.  Of  course 
I  didn't  confess  my  hu-mil-i-a-tion  ;  I  intimated  that 
it  was  simply  something  a  Xorth-ern-er  can't  un-der- 
stand.  Wasn't  that  right  ?  " 

"  Certainly  !  They  can't  understand  it !  They  seem 
to  think  the  South  we  love  is  a  certain  region  and 
everything  and  everybody  within  its  borders." 

"  I  have  a  mighty  dim  idea  where  its  Northern  bor 
der  is  sit-u-a-ted." 

"Why,  so  we  all  have !  Our  South  isn't  a  matter  of 
boundaries,  or  skies,  or  landscapes.  Don't  you  and  I 
,  find  it  all  here  now,  simply  because  we've  both  got  the 
true  feeling — the  one  heart-beat  for  it  ?  " 

Barbara's  only  answer  was  a  stronger  heart-beat. 

"  It's  not,"  resumed  March,  "  a  South  of  climate,  like 


IfOlfE-SICA'XESS  ALLEVIATED  327 

a  Yankee's    Florida.     It's    a    certain    ungeographical 
South-within-the-South — as  portable  and  intangible  as 

"  As  our  souls  in  our  bodies,"  interposed  Barbara. 

"  You've  said  it  exactly  !  It's  a  sort  o'  something — 
social,  civil,  political,  economic — 

"  Romantic  ? " 

"  Yes,  romantic  !     Something  that  makes " 

" '  Xo  land  like  Dixie  in  all  the  wide  world  over ! ' ' 

"Good!"  cried  John.  "Good!  O,  my  mother's 
expressed  that  beautifully  in  a  lyric  of  hers  where  she 
says  though  every  endearing  charm  should  fade  away 
like  a  fairy  gift  our  love  would  still  entwine  itself 
around  the  dear  ruin — verdantly —  I  oughtn't  to  try 
to  quote  it.  Doesn't  her  style  remind  you  of  some  of 
the  British  poets  ?  Aha  !  I  knew  you'd  say  so  !  Your 
father's  noticed  it.  He  says  she  ought  to  study  Moore  !  " 

Barbara  looked  startled,  colored,  and  then  was  im 
passive  again,  all  in  an  instant  and  so  prettily,  that 
John  gave  her  his  heartiest  admiration  even  while 
chafed  with  new  doubts  of  Garnet's  genuineness. 

The  commercial  man  Avent  back  to  the  smoking-room 
to  mention  casually  that  Mrs.  March  was  a  poetess. 

"  There's  mighty  little,"  John  began,  but  the  din  of 
a  passing  freight  train  compelled  him  to  repeat  much 
louder — "There's  mighty  little  poetry  that  can  beat 
Tom  Moore's !  " 

Barbara  showed  herself  so  mystified  and  embarrassed 
that  March  was  sure  she  had  not  heard  him  correctly. 
He  reiterated  his  words,  and  she  understood  and  smiled 
broadly,  but  merely  explained,  apologetically,  that  she 


328  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

had  thought  he  had  said  there  was  mighty  little  pastry 
could  beat  his  mother's. 

John  laughed  so  heartily  that  Mrs.  Fair  looked  back 
at  Barbara  with  gay  approval,  and  life  seemed  to  him 
for  the  moment  to  have  less  battle-smoke  and  more  sun 
shine  ;  but  by  and  by  when  he  thought  Barbara's  atten 
tion  was  entirely  on  the  landscape,  she  saw  him  uncon 
sciously  shake  his  head  and  heave  a  sigh. 


LVI. 

CONCERNING   SECOND    LOVE 

WHEN  the  train  stopped  at  a  station  they  talked  of 
the  book  in  her  hand,  and  by  the  time  it  started  on  they 
were  reading  poems  from  the  volume  to  each  other. 
The  roar  of  the  wheels  did  not  drown  her  low,  search 
ing  tones;  by  bending  close  John  could  hear  quite 
comfortably.  Between  readings  they  discussed  those 
truths  of  the  heart  on  which  the  poems  touched.  Later, 
though  they  still  read  aloud,  they  often  looked  on  the 
page  together. 

In  the  middle  of  one  poem  they  turned  the  book  face 
downward  to  consider  a  question.  Did  Miss  Garnet 
believe — Mr.  March  offered  to  admit  that  among  the 
small  elect  who  are  really  capable  of  a  divine  passion 
there  may  be  some  with  whom  a  second  love  is  a  gen 
uine  and  beautiful  possibility — yet  it  passed  his  com 
prehension — he  had  never  seen  two  dawns  in  one  day — 


CONCERNING  SECOND  LOVE  329 

but  did  Miss  Garnet  believe  such  a  second  love  could 
ever  have  the  depth  and  fervor  of  the  first  ? 

Yes,  she  replied  with  slow  care,  she  did — in  a  man's 
case  at  least.  To  every  deep  soul  she  did  believe  it 
was  appointed  to  love  once — yes — with  a  greater  joy 
and  pain  than  ever  before  or  after,  but  she  hardly 
thought  this  was  first  love.  It  was  almost  sure  to  be 
first  love  in  a  woman,  for  a  woman,  she  said,  can't 
afford  to  let  herself  love  until  she  knows  she  is  loved, 
and  so  her  first  love — when  it  really  is  love,  and  not  a 
mere  consent  to  be  loved 

"Which  is  frequently  all  it  is,"  said  John. 

"Yes.  But  when  it  is  a  real  love — it's  fearfully 
sure  and  strong  because  it  has  to  be  slow.  I  believe 
when  such  a  love  as  that  leaves  a  woman's  heart,  it  is 
likely  to  leave  it  hope-less-ly  strand-ed." 

"  And  you  think  it's  different  with  a  man  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  hope  it's  sometimes  different  with  a 
woman  ;  but  J  believe,  Mr.  March,  that  with  a  man 
the  chances  are  better.  A  man  who  simply  must  love, 
and  love  with  his  whole  soul " 

"Then  you  believe  there  are  such?  " 

"  Yes,  there  must  be,  or  God  wouldn't  create  some  .of 
the  women  he  makes." 

"  True  !  "  said  John,  very  gallantly. 

"  But  don't  you  think,  Mr.  March,  a  man  of  that 
sort  is  apt  to  love  prematurely  and  very  faultily  ?  His 
best  fruit  doesn't  fall  first.  Haven't  you  observed  that 
a  man's  first  love  is  just  what  a  woman  finds  it  hardest 
to  take  in  earnest  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  observed  that !    And  still — are  you  too 


JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

cynical  to  believe  that  there  are  men  to  whom  first  love 
is  everything  and  second  love  impossible  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Barbara,  with  true  resentment,  "  I'm  not 
too  cynical.  But — "  she  looked  her  prettiest — "  still  I 
don't  believe  it." 

John  turned  on  her  a  hard  glance  which  instantly 
softened.  It  is  a  singular  fact  that  the  length  and  droop 
of  a  girl's  eyelashes  have  great  weight  in  an  argument. 

"  And  yet,"  she  resumed,  but  paused  for  John  to 
wave  away  the  train-boy  with  his  books. 

"  And  yet  what  ?  "  asked  March,  ever  so  kindly. 

"  And  yet,  that  first  love  is  everything,  is  what  every 
woman  would  like  every  man  to  bclieva,  until  he  learns 
better."  Her  steadfast  gaze  and  slow  smile  made  John 
laugh.  He  was  about  to  give  a  railing  answer  when  the 
brakeman  announced  twenty  minutes  for  dinner. 

"What!  It  can't "  he  looked  at  his  watch. 

"  Why,  would  you  have  imagined  ?  " 

O  yes ;  her  only  surprise — a  mild  one — was  that  he 
didn't  know  it. 

At  table  she  sat  three  seats  away,  with  her  Northern 
friends  between ;  and  when  they  were  again  roaring 
over  streams,  and  through  hills  and  valleys,  and  the 
commercial  travelers,  whose  number  had  increased  to 
four,  were  discussing  aerial  navigation,  and  March  cut 
short  his  after-dinner  smoke  and  came  back  to  resume 
his  conversation,  he  found  Miss  Garnet  talking  to  the 
Fairs,  and  not  to  be  moved  by  the  fact — which  he  felt 
it  the  merest  courtesy  to  state — that  the  best  views  were 
on  the  other  side  of  the  car. 

Thereupon  he  went  to  the  car's  far  end  and  wrote  a 


SECOXD  LOVE  331 


sliort  letter  to  his  mother,  who  had  exacted  the  pledge 
of  one  a  day,  which  she  did  not  promise  to  answer. 

In  this  he  had  some  delay.  A  woman  with  a  dis 
abled  mouth,  cautiously  wiping  crumbs  off  it  with  a 
paper  napkin,  asked  him  the  time  of  day.  She 
explained  that  she  had  loaned  her  watch  —  gold  —  patent 
lever  —  to  her  husband,  who  was  a  printer.  She  said 
the  chain  of  the  watch  was  made  of  her  mother's  hair. 
She  also  stated  that  her  husband  was  an  atheist,  and  had 
a  most  singular  mole  on  his  back,  and  that  she  had 
been  called  by  telegraph  to  the  care  of  an  aunt  taken 
down  with  measles  and  whose  husband  was  a  steam 
boat  pilot,  and  an  excellent  self-taught  banjoist  ;  that 
she,  herself,  had  in  childhood  been  subject  to  mem 
branous  croup,  which  had  been  cured  with  pulsatilla, 
which  the  doctor  had  been  told  to  prescribe,  by  his 
grandmother,  in  a  dream  ;  also  that  her  father,  de 
ceased,  was  a  man  of  the  highest  refinement,  who 
had  invented  a  stump-extractor  ;  that  her  sisters  were 
passionately  fond  of  her  ;  that  she  never  spoke  to 
strangers  when  traveling,  but,  somehow,  he,  March,  did 
not  seem  like  a  stranger  at  all  ;  and  that  she  had 
brought  her  dinner  with  her  in  a  pasteboard  shirt-box 
rather  than  trust  railroad  cooking,  being  a  dyspeptic. 
She  submitted  the  empty  box  in  evidence,  got  him  to 
step  to  the  platform  and  throw  it  away,  and  on  his 
return  informed  him  that  it  was  dyspepsia  had  disabled 
her  mouth,  and  not  overwork,  as  she  and  her  sisters  had 
once  supposed. 

Still  March  did  finish  his  letter.  Then  he  went  and 
smoked  another  cigar.  And  then  he  came  again  and 


332  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

found  the  four  traveling  men  playing  whist,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Fair  dozing,  and  Miss  Garnet  looking  out  of  a 
window  on  the  other  side  in  a  section  at  the  far  end  of 
the  car,  the  only  one  not  otherwise  occupied. 

"  I'm  in  your  seat,"  she  said. 

"  O  don't  refuse  to  share  it  with  me ;  you  take  away 
all  its  value." 

She  gradually  remarked  that  she  was  not  the  sort  of 
person  wilfully  to  damage  the  value  of  a  seat  in  a  rail 
road  car,  and  they  shared  it. 

For  a  time  they  talked  at  random.  He  got  out  a 
map  and  time-table  and,  while  he  held  one  side  and 
she  the  other,  showed  where  they  had  had  to  lie 
five  hours  at  a  junction  the  night  before.  But  when 
these  were  folded  again  there  came  a  silent  interval,  and 
then  John  sank  lower  in  his  place,  dropped  his  tone,  and 
asked, 

"  Do  you  remember  what  we  were  speaking  of  before 
dinner  ? " 

Barbara  dreamily  said  yes,  and  they  began  where 
they  had  left  off. 

Three  hours  later,  on  the  contrary,  they  left  off  where 
they  had  begun. 


GO  02V,  SA  YS  BARBARA  333 

LVII. 

GO   ON,    SAYS   BARBAEA 

Miss  GARNET  said  she  ought  to  rejoin  her  friends, 
and  John  started  with  her. 

On  their  way  the  dyspeptic  stopped  them  affection 
ately  to  offer  Barbara  a  banana,  and  ask  if  she  and  the 
gentleman  were  not  cousins.  Miss  Garnet  said  no,  and 
John  enjoyed  that  way  she  had  of  smiling  sweetly  with 
her  eyes  alone.  But  she  smiled  just  as  prettily  with  her 
lips  also  when  the  woman  asked  him  if  he  was  perfectly 
sure  he  hadn't  relations  in  Arkansas  named  Pumpkin- 
seed — he  had  such  a  strong  Pumpkinseed  look.  The 
questioner  tried  to  urge  the  banana  upon  him,  assuring 
him  that  it  was  the  last  of  three,  which,  she  said,  she 
wouldn't  have  bought  if  she  hadn't  been  so  lonesome. 

Barbara  sat  down  with  her,  to  John's  disgust,  a  feel 
ing  which  was  not  diminished  when  he  passed  on  to  her 
Northern  friends,  and  Mr.  Fair  tried  very  gently  to 
draw7  him  out  on  the  Negro  question !  When  he  saw 
Mrs.  Fair  glancing  about  for  the  porter  he  sprang  to 
find  and  send  him,  but  lingered,  himself,  long  among 
the  mirrors  to  wash  and  brush  up  and  adjust  his  necktie. 

The  cars  stopping,  he  went  to  the  front  platform, 
where  the  dyspeptic,  who  was  leaving  the  train,  turned 
to  thank  him  "  for  all  his  kindness  "  with  such  genuine 
gratitude  that  in  the  haste  he  quite  lost  his  tongue,  and 
for  his  only  response  pushed  her  anxiously  off  the  steps. 
He  still  knew  enough,  however,  to  reflect  that  this 


334  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

probably  left  Miss  Garnet  alone,  and  promptly  going  in 
he  found  her — sitting  with  the  Fairs. 

Because  she  was  perishing  to  have  Mr.  March  again 
begin  where  he  had  left  off,  she  conversed  with  the 
Fairs  longer  than  ever  and  created  half  a  dozen  delays 
out  of  pure  nothings.  So  that  when  she  and  John  were 
once  more  alone  together  he  talked  hither  and  yon  for  a 
short  while  before  he  asked  her  where  the  poems  were. 

Nevertheless  she  was  extremely  pleasant.  Their 
fellow-passenger  just  gone,  she  said,  had  praised  him 
without  stint,  and  had  quoted  him  as  having  said  to 
her,  "  It  isn't  always  right  to  do  what  we  have  the  right 
to  do." 

"  O  pshaw !  "  warmly  exclaimed  John,  started  as 
if  she  had  touched  an  inflamed  nerve,  and  reddened, 
remembering  how  well  Miss  Garnet  might  know  what 
that  nerve  was,  and  why  it  was  so  sore. 

"  I  wish  I  knew  how  to  be  seii-ten-tioiis,"  said  Barbara, 
obliviously. 

"  It  was  she  led  up  to  it."  He  laughed.  "  She  said 
it  better,  herself,  afterward  !  " 

"How  did  she  say  it?" 

"  She  ?  O  she  said — she  said  her  pastor  said  it — 
that  nothing's  quite  right  until  it's  noble." 

"  Well,  don't  you  believe  that  principle  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know !  That's  what  I've  asked  myself 
twenty  times  to-day." 

"  Why  to-day  ?  "  asked  Miss  Garnet,  with  eyes  down 
cast,  as  though  she  could  give  the  right  answer  herself. 

"  0  " — he  smiled — "  something  set  me  to  thinking 
about  it.  But,  now,  Miss  Garnet,  is  it  true  ?  Isn't  it 


GO  O.V,  SA  YS  BARBARA  335 

sometimes    allowable,  and  sometimes  even  necessary — 
absolutely,  morally  necessary — for  a  fellow  to  do  what 
may  look  anything  but  noble  ?  " 
He  got  no  reply. 

"O  of  course  I  know  it's  the  spirit  of  an  act  that 
counts,  and  not  its  look  ;  but — here  now,  for  example," 
— John  dropped  his  voice  confidentially — "  is  a  fellow 

in  love  with  a  young  lady,  and Do  I  speak  loud 

enough  ?  " 

"Yes,  go  on." 

He  did  so  for  some  time.     By  and  by : 
"  All !    yes,  Mr.  March,  but  remember  you're  only 
supposing  a  case." 

"  O,  but  I'm  not  only  supposing  it ;  it's  actual  fact. 
I  knew  it.  And,  as  I  say,  whatever  that  feeling  for  her 
was,  it  became  the  ruling  passion  of  his  life.  When 
circumstances — a  change  of  conditions — of  relations — 
made  it  simply  wrong  for  him  to  cherish  it  any  more  it 
wasn't  one-fourth  or  one-tenth  so  much  the  unrighteous 
ness  as  the  ignobility  of  the  thing  that  tortured  him  and 
tortured  him,  until  one  day  what  does  he  up  and  do 
but  turn  over  a  new  leaf.  Do  I  speak  too  low  ?  " 
"  No,  go  on,  Mr.  March." 

Well,  for  about  twenty -four  hours  he  thought  he  had 
done   something  noble.     Then  he  found  that  was  just 
what  it  wasn't.     It  never   is ;   else   turning   over   new 
leaves   would   be  easy  !     He  didn't   get   his   new  leaf 
turned  over.     He  tried  ;  he  tried  his  best." 
"  That's  all  God  asks,"  murmured  Barbara. 
"What?" 
"  Nothing.     Please  don't  stop.     How'd  it  turn  out  ?  " 


336      JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

"  O  bad  !  He  put  himself  out  of  sight  and  reach  and 
went  on  trying,  till  one  day — one  night — without  inten 
tion  or  expectation,  he  found  her  when,  by  the  baseness 
— no,  I  won't  say  that,  but — yes,  I  will ! — by  the  base 
ness  of  another,  she  was  all  at  once  the  fit  object  of  all 
the  pity  and  the  sort  of  love  that  belongs  with  pity, 
which  any  heart  can  give." 

"  And  he  gave  them  !  " 

"Yes,  he  gave  them.  But  the  old  feeling — whatever 
it  was "  John  hesitated. 

"  Go  on.     Please  don't  stop." 

"  The — the  old  feeling — went  out — right  there — like 
a  candle  in  the  wind.  No,  not  that  way,  quite,  but 
like  a  lamp  drinking  the  last  of  its  oil.  Where  he  lodged 
that  night " 

«  Yes " 

"  — He  heard  a  clock  strike  every  hour  ;  and  at  the 
break  of  day  that — feeling — whatever  it  was — with  the 
only  real  good  excuse  to  live  it  ever  had — was  dead." 

"  And  that  wasn't  true  love  ?  Don't  you  believe  it 
was  ?  " 

"  Do  you,  Miss  Barbara  Garnet  ?  Could  true  love  lie 
down  and  give  up  the  ghost  at  such  a  time  and  on  such 
a  pretext  as  that  ?  Could  it  ?  Could  it  ?  " 

"  I  think — 0 — I  think  it — you'll  forgive  me  if " 

"Forgive!  Why,  how  can  you  offend  me?  You 
don't  imagine " 

"  O  no !  I  forgot.  Well  I  think  the  love  was  true 
in  degree ;  not  the  very  truest.  It  was  only  first  love  ; 
but  it  was  the  first  love  of  a  true  heart." 

"  To  be  followed  by  a  later  and  truer  love,  you  think  ? " 


GO  ON,   SA  YS  BARBARA  337 

"You  shouldn't — O  I  don't  know,  Mr.  March. 
What  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  Never !  That's  what  I  think.  He  may  find  refuge 
in  friendship.  I  believe  such  a  soul  best  fitted  for  that 
deep,  pure  friendship  so  much  talked  of  and  so  rarely 
realized  hetween  man  and  woman.  Such  a  heart  natu 
rally  seeks  it.  Not  with  a  mere  hunger  for  comfort " 

"  O  no." 

"  — But  because  it  has  that  to  give  which  it  cannot 
offer  in  love,  yet  which  is  good  only  when  given  ;  worth 
less  to  one,  priceless  to  two.  Sometimes  I  think  it's  finer 
than  love,  for  it  makes  no  demands,  no  promises,  no 

compacts,  no  professions " 

"  Did  you  ever  have  such  a  friendship?  " 
"  No,  indeed  !  If  I  had — oh  pshaw !  I  never  was 
or  shall  be  fit  for  it.  But  I  just  tell  you,  Miss 
Garnet,  that  in  such  a  case  as  we've  spoken  of,  the 
need  of  such  a  heart  for  such  a  friendship  can't  be 
reckoned !  " 

He  smiled  sturdily,  and  she  smiled  also,  but  let 
compassion  speak  in  her  eyes  before  she  reverently  with 
drew  them.  He,  too,  was  still. 

They  were  approaching  a  large  river.  The  porter, 
growing  fond  of  them,  came,  saying : 

"  Here  where  we  crosses  into  Yankeedom.  Fine 
view  fum  de  rear  platfawm — sun  jes'  a-sett'n'." 

They  went  there — the  Fairs  preferred  to  sit  still — and 
with  the  eddies  of  an  almost  wintry  air  ruffling  them  and 
John's  arm  lying  along  the  rail  under  the  window  be 
hind  them,  so  as  to  clasp  her  instantly  if  she  should 
lurch,  they  watched  the  slender  bridge  lengthen  away 


338  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

and  the  cold  river  widen  under  it  between  them  and 
Dixie. 

Their  silence  confessed  their  common  emotion.  John 
felt  a  condescending  expansion  and  did  not  withdraw 
his  arm  even  after  the  bridge  was  passed  until  he 
thought  Miss  Garnet  was  about  to  glance  around  at  it, 
which  she  had  no  idea  of  doing. 

"  I  declare,  Miss  Garnet,  I — I  wish- 
She  turned  her  eyes  to  his  handsome  face  lifted  with 
venturesome  diffidence  and  frowning  against  the  bluster 
ing  wind. 

"  I'm  afraid  " — he  gayly  shook  his  head — "  you  won't 
like  what  I  say  if  you  don't  take  it  just  as  I  mean  it." 
He  put  his  hand  over  the  iron-work  again,  but  she  was 
still  looking  into  his  face,  and  he  thought  she  didn't 
know  it. 

"  It  wouldn't  be  fair  to  take  it  as  you  don't  mean  it," 
she  said.  "  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  ha-ha — I — I  wish  I  were  your  brother ! — ha- 
ha  !  Seriously,  I  don't  believe  you  can  imagine  how 
much  a  lone  fellow — boy  or  man — can  long  and  pine  for 
a  sister.  If  I'd  had  a  sister,  a  younger  sister — no  boy 
ever  pined  for  an  older  sister — I  believe  I'd  have 
made  a  better  man.  When  I  was  a  small  boy " 

Barbara  glanced  at  his  breadth  and  stature  with  a 
slow  smile. 

He  laughed.  "O,  that  was  away  back  yonder  be 
fore  you  can  remember." 

"  It  certainly  must  have  been,"  she  replied,  "  and 

yet " 

"And  yet — "  he  echoed,  enjoying  his  largeness. 


GO  ON,  SA  YS  BARBARA  339 

"  I  thought  all  the  pre-his-tor-ic  things  were  big. 
But  what  was  it  you  used  to  do  ?  I  know  ;  you  used  to 
cry  for  a  sister,  didn't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes.     Why,  how'd  you  guess  that  ?  " 

"  I  can't  say,  unless  it  was  because  I  used  to  cry  for  a 
little  brother." 

"  And  why  a  little  one  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  was  young  and  didn't  know  any  better." 

"  But  later  on,  you— 

"  I  wanted  the  largest  size." 

"  D'd  you  ever  cry  for  a  brother  of  the  largest  size?  " 

"  Why,  yes ;  I  nearly  cry  for  one  yet,  sometimes, 
when  somebody  makes  me  mad." 

"  Miss  Garnet,  I'm  your  candidate  !  " 

"  No,  Mr.  March.  If  you  were  elected  you'd  see 
your  mistake  and  resign  in  a  week,  and  I  couldn't  en 
dure  the  mor-ti-fi-ca-tion." 

John  colored.  He  thought  she  was  hinting  at  fickle 
ness  ;  but  she  gave  him  a  smile  which  said  so  plainly, 
"  The  fault  would  be  mine,"  that  he  was  more  than 
comfortable  again — on  the  surface  of  his  feelings,  I 
mean. 

And  so  with  Barbara.  The  train  had  begun  a  down 
grade  and  was  going  faster  and  faster.  As  she  stood 
sweetly  contemplating  the  sunset  sky  and  sinking  hills, 
fearing  to  move  lest  that  arm  behind  her  should  be 
withdrawn  and  yet  vigilant  to  give  it  no  cause  to  come 
nearer,  an  unvoiced  cry  kept  falling  back  into  her 
heart — "  Tell  him  ! — For  your  misguided  father's  sake ! 
Now ! — Now ! — Stop  this  prattle  about  friendship,  love, 
and  truth,  and  tell  him  his  danger !  " 


340  JOHN  MA R CH,  SOU "1 HERNER 

But  in  reality  she  had  not,  and  was  not  to  have,  the 
chance. 

The  young  land- owner  stood  beside  her  staring  at 
nothing  and  trying  to  bite  his  mustache. 

He  came  to  himself  with  a  start.     "  Miss  Garnet " 

As  she  turned  the  sky's  blush  lighted  her  face. 

"  That  case  we  were  speaking  of  inside,  you  know — 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Well,  as  I  said,  I  knew  that  case  myself.  But,  my 
goodness,  Miss  Garnet,  you  won't  infer  that  I  was  allud 
ing  in  any  way  to — to  any  experience  of  my  own,  will 
you  ?  " 

She  made  no  reply. 

"  Law !  Miss  Garnet,  you  don't  think  I'd  offer  any 
body  a  friendship  pulled  out  of  a  slough  of  despond, 
do  you  ?  " 

Barbara  looked  at  him  in  trembling  exaltation. 
"  Mr.  March,  I  know  what  has  happened  !  " 

He  winced,  but  kept  his  guard.  "  Do  you  mean  you 
know  how  it  is  I  am  on  this  train  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  know  it  all." 

"  0  my  soul !     Have  I  betrayed  it  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  the  train  conductor — I  led  him  on — told  us 
all  about  it  before  we  were  twenty  miles  from  Suez." 

"  I  ought  to  have  guessed  you'd  find  it  out,"  said 
John,  in  a  tone  of  self-rebuke. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  driving  back  her  tears  with  a 
quiet  smile,  "  I  think  you  ought." 

"Why — why,  I — I — I'm  overwhelmed.  Gracious 
me !  I  owe  you  an  humble  apology,  Miss  Garnet.  Yes, 
I  do.  I've  thrust  a  confidence  on  you  without  your 


GO  OAr,  SA  YS  BARBARA  341 

permission.  I — I  beg  your  pardon  !  I  didn't  mean  to, 
I  declare  I  didn't,  Miss  Garnet." 

"  It's  safe." 

"  I  know  it.  I'm  surer  of  that  than  if  you  were  any 
one  else  I've  ever  known  in  my  life,  Miss  Garnet." 

"  It  shall  be  as  if  I  had  never  heard  it." 

"  O  no  !  I  don't  see  how  it  can.  In  fact — well — I 
don't  see  why  it  should — unless  you  wish  it  so.  Of 
course,  in  that  case " 

"  That's  not  a  eon-tin-gen-cy,"  said  Barbara,  and  for 
more  than  a  minute  they  listened  to  the  clangorous 
racket  of  the  rails.  Then  John  asked  her  if  it  did  not 
have  a  quality  in  it  almost  like  music  and  she  bright 
ened  up  at  him  as  she  nodded. 

He  made  a  gesture  toward  the  receding  land,  bent  to 
her  in  the  uproar  and  cried,  "  It  scarcely  seems  a 
moment  since  those  hills  were  full  of  spring  color,  and 
now  they're  blue  in  the  distance  !  " 

She  looked  at  them  tenderly  and  nodded  again. 

"At  any  rate,"  he  cried,  holding  his  hat  on  and 
bending  lower,  "  we  have  Dixie  for  our  common 
mother."  His  manner  was  patriotic. 

She  glanced  up  to  him — the  distance  was  trivial — 
beaming  with  sisterly  confidence,  and  just  then  the 
train  lurched,  and — he  caught  her. 

"  H-I  conscience !  wa'n't  it  lucky  I  happened  to 
have  my  arm  back  there  just  at  that  moment  ? " 

Barbara  did  not  say.  She  stood  with  her  back 
against  the  car,  gazing  at  the  track,  her  small  feet 
braced  forward  with  new  caution,  but  she  saw  March 
lapse  into  reverie  and  heave  another  sigh. 


342      JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

However,  she  observed  his  mind  return  and  rightly 
divined  he  was  thinking  her  silence  a  trifle  ungracious  ; 
so  she  lifted  her  hand  toward  a  white  cloud  that  rose 
above  the  vanished  hills  and  river,  saying : 

"  Our  common  mother  waves  us  farewell." 

"  Yes,"  he  cried  with  grateful  pleasure.  Seeing  her 
draw  her  wrap  closer  he  added,  "  You're  cold  ?  "  And 
it  was  true,  although  she  shook  her  head.  He  bent 
again  to  explain.  "  It'll  be  warmer  when  we  leave  this 
valley.  You  see,  here — 

"  Yes,"  she  nodded  so  intelligently  that  he  did  not 
finish.  Miss  Garnet,  however,  was  thinking  of  her 
chaperone  and  dubiously  glanced  back  at  the  door. 
Then  she  braced  her  feet  afresh.  They  were  extremely 
pretty. 

He  smiled  at  them.  "  You  needn't  plant  yourself  so 
firmly,"  he  said,  "  I'm  not  going  to  let  you  fall  off." 

O  dear!  That  reversed  everything.  She  had  de 
cided  to  stay  ;  now  she  couldn't. 

Once  more  the  Northern  pair  received  them  with 
placid  interest.  Mr.  Fair  presently  asked  a  question 
which  John  had  waited  for  all  day,  and  it  was  dark 
night  without  and  lamp-light  within,  and  they  were 
drawing  near  a  large  city,  before  the  young  man,  in 
reply,  had  more  than  half  told  the  stout  plans  and 
hopes  of  this  expedition  of  his  after  capital  and  colonists. 

Mrs.  Fair  showed  a  most  lively  approval.  "And 
must  you  leave  us  here  ?  " 

Barbara  had  not  noticed  till  now  how  handsome  she 
was.  Neither  had  John. 

"Yes,    ma'am.     But   I   shan't  waste  a  day  here  if 


GO  O.V,  SA  YS  BARBARA  343 

things  don't  show  up  right.     I  shall  push  right  on  to 
New  York." 

Barbara  hoped  Mr.  Fair's  pleasantness  of  face  meant 
an  approbation  as  complete  as  his  wife's,  and,  to  hide 
her  own,  meditatively  observed  that  this  journey  would 
be  known  in  history  as  March's  Raid. 

John  laughed  and  thanked  her  for  not  showing  the 
fears  of  Captains  Champion  and  Shotwell  that  he  would 
"  go  in  like  a  lion  and  come  out  like  a  lamb." 

They  hurried  to  the  next  section  and  peered  out  into 
the  night  with  suppressed  but  eager  exclamations. 
Long  lines  of  suburban  street-lamps  were  swinging  by. 
Ranks  of  coke-furnaces  were  blazing  like  necklaces  of 
fire.  Foundries  and  machine-shops  glowed  and  were 
gone ;  and,  far  away,  close  by,  and  far  away  again, 
beautifully  colored  flames  waved  from  the  unseen 
chimneys  of  chemical  works. 

"We've  neither  of  us  ever  seen  a  great  city,"  Miss 
Garnet  explained  when  she  rejoined  her  protectors. 
John  had  been  intercepted  by  the  porter  with  his 
brush,  and  Barbara,  though  still  conversing,  could  hear 
what  the  negro  was  saying. 

"  I  lef  you  to  dc  las',  Cap.  Seem  like  you  'ten'in'  so 
close  to  business  an'  same  time  enjoyin'  yo'seff  so  well,  I 
hated  to  'sturb — thank  you,  seh !  "  The  train  came 
slowly  to  a  stand.  "  O  no,  seh,  dis  ain't  de  depot. 
Depot  three  miles  fu'theh  yit,  seh.  We'll  go  on  ag'in 
in  a  minute.  Obacoat,  seh  ?  Dis  yo'  ambreel  ?  " 

John  bade  his  friends  good-by.  "  And  now,  Miss 
Garnet  " — he  retained  her  hand  a  moment — "  don't 
you  go  off  and  forget — Dixie." 


344  JOHN  MARCH,   SOUTHERNER 

She  said  no,  and  as  lie  let  go  her  hand  she  let  him 
see  deeper  into  her  eyes  than  ever  before. 

A  step  or  two  away  he  looked  back  with  a  fraternal 
smile,  but  she  was  talking  to  Mrs.  Fair  as  eagerly  as  if 
he  had  been  gone  three  days.  The  train  stood  so  long 
that  he  went  forward  to  ask  what  the  delay  signified  and 
saw  the  four  commercial  travelers  walking  away  with 
their  hand-bags.  The  porter  was  busy  about  the  door. 

"  Big  smash-up  of  freight-cyars  in  de  yard  ;  yass,  seh. 
No  seh,  cayn't  'zac'ly  tell  jis  how  long  we  be  kep'  here, 
but  'f  you  dislikes  to  wait,  Cap,  you  needn'.  You  kin 
teck  a  street-cyar  here  what' 11  Ian'  you  right  down 
'mongs'  de  hotels  an'  things  ;  yass,  seh.  See  what ;  de 
wreck?  No,  seh,  it's  up  in  de  yard  whah  dey  don't 
'How  you  to  pa-ass." 

Out  in  the  darkness  beside  the  train  March  stood  a 
moment.  He  could  see  Miss  Garnet  very  plainly  at 
her  bright  window  and  was  wondering  how  she  and  her 
friends,  but  especially  she,  would  take  it  if  he  should  go 
back  and  help  them  while  away  this  tiresome  detention. 
If  she  had  answered  that  last  smile  of  his,  or  if  she  were 
showing,  now,  any  tendency  at  all  to  look  out  the 
window,  he  might  have  returned ;  but  no,  howdy  after 
farewell  lacked  dignity.  The  street-car  came  along 
just  then  and  Barbara  saw  him  get  into  it. 


TOGETHER  AGAIN  345 

LVIII. 

TOGETHER    AGAIN 

MARCH  did  not  put  up  at  the  most  famous  and  pala 
tial  hotel ;  it  was  full.  He  went  to  another  much 
smaller  and  quieter,  and  equally  expensive.  When  he 
had  taken  supper  he  walked  the  dazzling  streets  till 
midnight,  filled  with  the  strangeness  of  the  place  and 
the  greater  strangeness  of  his  being  there,  and  with 
numberless  fugitive  reflections  upon  the  day  just  gone, 
the  life  behind  it,  and  the  life  before,  but  totally  with 
out  those  shaped  and  ordered  trains  of  thought  which 
no  one  has  except  in  books. 

Sometimes  tenderly,  sometimes  bitterly,  Fannie  came 
to  mind,  in  emotions  rather  than  memories,  and  as  if 
she  were  someone  whom  he  should  never  see  again. 
Once  it  occurred  to  him  that  these  ghost  walkings  of 
thought  and  feelings  about  her  must  be  very  much  like 
one's  thoughts  of  a  limb  shattered  in  some  disaster  and 
lately  cut  off  by  a  surgeon.  The  simile  was  not  pleas 
ant,  but  he  did  not  see  why  he  should  want  a  pleasant 
one.  Only  by  an  effort  could  he  realize  she  was  still  of 
this  world,  and  that  by  and  by  they  would  be  back 
in  Suez  again,  meeting  casually,  habitually,  and  in  a 
much  more  commonplace  and  uninteresting  way  than 
ever  they  had  done  in  the  past.  He  shuddered,  then  he 
sighed,  and  then  he  said  ahem !  and  gave  himself  the 
look  of  a  man  of  affairs.  On  men  who  stared  at  him 


346  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

he  retorted  with  a  frown  of  austere  inquiry,  not  aware 
that  they  were  merely  noticing  how  handsome  he  was. 

For  a  time  he  silently  went  through  minute  recapit 
ulations  of  his  recent  colloquies  with  Miss  Garnet,  who 
seemed  already  surprisingly  far  away ;  much  farther 
than  any  railroad  speed  could  at  all  account  for.  He 
wished  she  were  "  further !  " — for  he  could  quote  five 
different  remarks  of  his  own  uttered  to  her  that  very 
day,  which  he  saw  plainly  enough,  now,  nobody  but  a 
perfect  fool  could  have  made. 

"  Oh  !  Great  Scott !  What  did  possess  me  to  drag 
her  into  my  confidence  ?  " 

He  "  wondered  if  mesmerism  had  anything " — but 
rejected  that  explanation  with  disdain  and  dismissed 
the  subject.  And  then  this  strange  thing  happened : 
He  was  standing  looking  into  a  show-window  made  gor 
geous  with  hot-house  flowers,  when  a  very  low  vorce 
close  at  hand  moaned,  "  O  Lord,  no !  I  simply  made 
an  ass  of  myself,"  and  when  he  turned  sharply  around 
no  one  was  anywhere  near. 

He  returned  to  his  room  and  went  to  bed  and  to 
sleep  wishing  "to  gracious"  he  might  see  her  once 
more  and  once  only,  simply  to  show  her  that  he  had 
nothing  more  to  confide — to  her  or  any  similar  soft- 
smiling  she  ! — The  s's  are  his. 

He  did  not  rise  early  next  morning.  And  in  this  he 
was  wise.  Rejoice,  oh,  young  man,  in  your  project,  but 
know  that  old  men,  without  projects,  hearing  will  not 
hear — until  they  have  seen  their  mail  and  their  cashier  ; 
the  early  worm  rarely  catches  the  bird.  John  had  just 
learned  this  in  Pulaski  City. 


TOGETHER  AGAIN  347 

At  breakfast  he  was  again  startled  by  a  low  voice 
very  close  to  him.  It  was  Mr.  Fair. 

"  Mr.  March,  why  not  come  over  and  sit  with  us  ?  " 

The  ladies  bowed  from  a  table  on  the  far  side  of  the 
room.  Mrs.  Fair  seemed  as  handsome  as  ever ;  while 
Miss  Garnet ! — well !  If  she  was  winsome  and  beautiful 
yesterday,  with  that  silly,  facing-both-ways  traveling 
cap  she  had  worn,  what  could  a  reverent  young  man 
do  here  and  now  but  gasp  his  admiration  under  his 
breath  as  he  followed  his  senior  toward  them  ? 

Even  in  the  lively  conversation  which  followed  he 
found  time  to  think  it  strange  that  she  had  never 
seemed  to  him  half  so  lovely  in  Suez ;  was  it  his  over 
sight  ?  Maybe  not,  for  in  Suez  she  had  never  in  life 
been  half  so  happy.  Mrs.  Fair  could  see  this  with  her 
eyes  shut,  and  poor  Barbara  could  see  that  she  saw  it 
by  the  way  she  shut  her  eyes.  But  John,  of  course, 
was  blind  enough,  and  presently  concluded  that  the 
wonder  of  this  crescent  loveliness  was  the  old,  old 
wonder  of  the  opening  rose.  Meanwhile  the  talk 
flowed  on. 

"  And  by  that  time,"  said  John,  "  you'd  missed  your 
connection.  I  might  have  guessed  it.  Nowr  you'll  take 
— but  you've  hardly  got  time — 

No,  Mrs.  Fair  was  feeling  rather  travel  weary ;  this 
was  Saturday ;  they  would  pass  Sunday  here  and  start 
refreshed  on  Monday. 

In  the  crowded  elevator,  when  March  was  gone, 
Barbara  heard  Mrs.  Fair  say  to  her  husband, 

"  You  must  know  men  here  whom  it  would  be  good 
for  him  to  see ;  why  don't  you  offer  to "  Mrs. 


348  JOHX  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

Fair  ceased  and  there  was  no  response,  except  that 
Barbara  said,  behind  her  smiling  lips, 

"  It's  because  he's  in  bad  hands,  and  still  I  have  not 
warned  him ! " 

March  did  not  see  them  again  that  day.  In  the 
evening,  two  men,  friends,  sitting  in  the  hotel's  rotunda, 
were  conjecturing  who  yonder  guest  might  be  to  whose 
inquiries  the  clerk  was  so  promptly  attentive. 

"  He's  a  Southerner,  that's  plain  ;  and  a  gentleman, 
that's  just  as  certain." 

"Yes,  if  he  were  not  both  he  would  not  be  so  per 
fectly  at  home  in  exactly  the  right  clothes  and  yet  look 
as  if  he  had  spent  most  of  his  life  in  swimming." 

"  He  hasn't  got  exactly  the  right  overcoat ;  it's  too 
light  and  thin." 

"No,  but  that's  the  crowning  proof  that  he's  a 
Southerner."  It  was  John. 

They  hearkened  to  the  clerk.  "  He's  just  gone  to 
the  theatre,  Mr.  March,  he  and  both  ladies.  He  was 
asking  for  you.  I  think  he  wanted  you  to  go." 

"  I  reckon  not,"  said  John,  abstractedly,  and  in  his 
fancy  saw  Miss  Garnet  explaining  to  her  friends,  with 
a  restrained  smile,  that  in  Suez  to  join  the  church  was 
to  abjure  the  theatre.  But  another  clerk  spoke: 

"Mr.  March,  did  you — here's  a  note  for  you." 

The  clerk  knew  it  was  from  Miss  Garnet,  and  was 
chagrined  to  see  John,  after  once  reading  it,  dreamily 
tear  it  up  and  drop  it  to  the  floor.  Still  it  increased 
his  respect  for  the  young  millionaire — Mr.  March,  that 
is.  It  was  as  if  he  had  lighted  his  cigar  with  a  ten- 
dollar  bill. 


TOGETHER  AGAIN  349 

John  wrote  his  answer  upstairs,  taking  a  good  deal 
of  time  and  pains  to  give  it  an  air  of  dash  and  haste, 
and  accepting,  with  cordial  thanks,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Fair's  cordial  invitation  to  go  with  them  (and  Miss 
Garnet,  writing  at  their  request)  next  day  to  church. 
Which  in  its  right  time  he  did. 

On  his  way  back  to  the  hotel  with  Miss  Garnet  after 
service,  John  was  nothing  less  than  pained — though  he 
took  care  not  to  let  her  know  it — to  find  how  far  astray 
she  was  as  to  some  of  the  fundamental  doctrines  of 
Christianity.  For  fear  she  might  find  out  his  distress, 
he  took  his  midday  meal  alone.  And  indeed,  Miss 
Garnet  may  have  had  her  suspicions,  for  over  their 
ice-cream  and  coffee  she  said  amusedly  to  Mrs.  Fair, 
and  evidently  in  reference  to  him, 

"  I  am  afraid  it  was  only  the  slightness  of  oflr 
acquaintance  that  kept  him  from  being  pos-i-tive-ly 
pet-u-lent." 

She  seemed  amused,  I  say,  but  an  hour  or  so  later,  in 
her  own  room,  she  called  herself  a  goose  and  somebody 
else  another,  and  glancing  at  the  mirror,  caught  two 
tears  attempting  to  escape.  She  drove  them  back  with 
a  vigorous  stamp  of  the  foot  and  proceeded  to  dress  for 
a  cold  afternoon  walk  among  the  quieted  wonders  of  a 
resting  city,  without  the  Fairs,  but  not  wholly  alone. 


350  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

LIX. 

THIS    TIME    SHE    WARNS    HIM 

As  Miss  Garnet  and  her  escort  started  forth  upon 
this  walk,  I  think  you  would  have  been  tempted  to  con 
firm  the  verdict  of  two  men  who,  meeting  and  passing 
them,  concluded  that  the  escort  was  wasting  valuable 
time  when  they  heard  him  say, 

"It  did  startle  me  to  hear  how  lightly  you  regard 
what  you  call  a  memorized  religion." 

But  this  mood  soon  passed.  A  gentleman  and  lady, 
presently  overtaking  them,  heard  her  confess,  "  I  know 
I  don't  know  as  much  as  I  think  I  do ;  I  only  wish  I 
knew  as  much  as  I  don't."  Whereat  her  escort  laughed 
admiringly,  and  during  the  whole  subsequent  two  hours 
of  their  promenade  scarcely  any  observer  noticed  the 
slightness  of  their  acquaintance. 

Across  the  fields  around  Suez  their  conversation 
would  have  been  sprightly  enough,  I  warrant.  But  as 
here  they  saw  around  them  one  and  another  amazing 
triumph  of  industry  and  art,  they  grew  earnest,  spoke 
exaltedly  of  this  great  age,  and  marvelled  at  the  tangle 
of  chances  that  had  thrown  them  here  together.  John 
called  it,  pensively,  a  most  happy  fortune  for  himself, 
but  Barbara  in  reply  only  invited  his  attention  to  the 
beauty  of  the  street  vista  behind  them. 

Half  a  square  farther  on  he  came  out  of  a  brown 
study. 

"  Miss  Barb  " —     It  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever 


THIS  TIME  SHE   WARNS  HIM  351 

said  that,  and  though  she  lifted  her  glance  in  sober  in 
quiry,  the  music  of  it  ran  through  all  her  veins. 

" — Miss  Barb,  isn't  it  astonishing,  the  speed  with 
which  acquaintance  can  grow,  under  favorable  con 
ditions  ? " 

"Is  it?" 

"Oh,  well,  no,  it  isn't.  Only  that's  not  its  usual 
way." 

"  Isn't  the  usual  way  the  best?  " 

"  Oh  —  usually  —  yes !  But  there's  nothing  usual 
about  this  meeting  of  ours.  Miss  Barb,  my  finding  you 
and  your  friendship  is  as  if  I'd  been  lost  at  midnight  in 
a  trackless  forest  and  had  all  at  once  found  a  road.  I 
only  wish  " — he  gnawed  his  lip — "  I  only  wish  these 
three  last  days  had  come  to  me  years  ago.  You  might 
have  saved  me  some  big  mistakes." 

"Xo,"  Barbara  softly  replied,  "I'm  afraid  not." 

"  I  only  mean  as  a  sister  might  influence  an  older 
brother  ;  cheering — helping — warning." 

"Warning!"  murmured  Barbara,  with  drooping 
head  and  slower  step.  "  You  don't  know  what  an  evil 
gift  of  untimely  silence  I've  got.  If  I've  failed  all  my 
life  long  as  a  daughter,  in  just  what  you're  supposing  of 
me " 

"  O  come,  now,  Miss " 

"Don't  stop  me!  Why,  Mr.  March" — she  looked 
up,  and  as  she  brushed  back  a  hair  from  her  ear  John 
thought  her  hand  shook ;  but  when  she  smiled  he  con 
cluded  he  had  been  mistaken — "  I've  been  wanting 
these  whole  three  days  to  warn  you  of  something  which, 
since  it  concerns  your  fortunes,  concerns  nearly  every- 


352  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

one  I  know,  and  especially  my  father.  Is  it  meddle 
some  for  me  to  be  solicitous  about  your  ambitions  and 
plans  for  Widewood,  Mr.  March?" 

"  Now,  Miss  Garnet !  You  know  I'd  consider  it  an 
honor  and  a  delight — Miss  Barb.  What  do  you  want 
to  warn  me  against  ?  Mind,  I  don't  say  I'll  take  your 
warning ;  but  I'll  prize  the  friendship  that " 

"  I  owe  it  to  my  father." 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes  !  I  don't  mean  to  claim  —  aha !  I 
thought  that  tolling  was  for  fire !  Here  comes  one  of 
the  engines  !  —  Better  take  my  arm  a  minute  —  I  —  I 
think  you'd  better — till  the  whirlwind  passes." 

She  took  it,  and  before  they  reached  a  crossing  on 
whose  far  side  she  had  promised  herself  to  relinquish  it, 
another  engine  rushed  by.  This  time  they  stood  aside 
under  an  arch  with  her  hand  resting  comfortably  in 
his  elbow.  It  still  rested  there  when  they  had  resumed 
their  walk,  only  stirring  self-reproachfully  when  John 
incautiously  remarked  the  street's  restored  quietness. 

Barbara  wras  silent.  When  they  had  gone  some  dis 
tance  farther  John  asked, 

"  Have  I  forfeited  your  solicitude  ?  Will  you  not 
warn  me,  after  all  ?  "  He  looked  at  her  and  she  looked 
at  him,  twice,  but  speech  would  not  come ;  her  lips  only 
parted,  broke  into  a  baffled  smile,  and  were  grave 
again. 

"  I  suppose,  of  course,  it's  against  measures,  not  men, 
as  they  say,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  It's  against  men,"  said  Barbara. 

"That  surprises  me,"  replied  John,  with  a  puzzled 
smile. 


77/75  TIME  SHE    WARNS  HIM  606 

"Why,  Mr.  March,  you  can't  suppose,  do  you,  that 
your  high  ambitious  and  purposes ' 

"Oh,  they're  not  mine;  they're  my  father's.  The 
details  and  execution  are  mine 

"  But,  anyhow,  you  share  them ;  you've  said  so. 
You  don't  suppose  your  associates " 

"  What ;  share  them  the  same  way  I  do  ?  Why,  no, 
Miss  Barb  ;  it  wouldn't  be  fair  to  expect  that,  would  it? 
And  yet,  in  a  certain  way,  on  a  lower  plane — from  a 
simply  commercial  standpoint — they  do.  I  don't  in 
clude  your  father  with  them!  I  only  wish  I  could  re 
flect  the  spirit  of  my  father's  wishes  and  hopes  as  per 
fectly  as  he  docs." 

"  Mr.  March,  don't  men  sometimes  go  into  such  enter 
prises  as  yours  simply  to  plunder  and  ruin  those  that  go 
in  honestly  with  them?  " 

"  Oli,  undoubtedly.     You  see,  in  this  case " 

"Mr.  March " 

"  Yes,  Miss  Barb " 

"  I  believe  certain  men  are  in  your  company  with 
that  intention." 

"  But  you  don't  know  it,  do  you  ?     Else  you  would 

naturally  tell  your  father  instead  of  me.     You  only " 

He  hesitated. 

"I  only  see  it." 

"  Oh — oh  !  have  you  no  other  evidence — only  an  in 
tuition  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  other  evidence." 

"  Ah  !  "  laughed  John.  "  You've  got  higher  cards, 
have  you  ? " 

Her  eyes  softly  brightened  in  response  to  his.     The 


354  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

next  instant  the  hand  in  his  arm  awoke,  but  lay  very 
still,  as  four  men  passed,  solemnly  raised  their  silk  hats 
to  March,  and  disappeared  around  a  corner.  They 
•were  the  commercial  travelers ! 

Her  hand  left  his  arm  to  brush  something  from  her 
opposite  shoulder,  and  did  not  return,  but  hid  some 
where  in  her  wrap,  tingling  with  a  little  anguish  all  its 
own,  in  the  realization  that  discovery  is  almost  the  only 
road  to  repentance.  At  the  same  time  it  could  hear,  so 
to  speak,  its  owner  telling,  with  something  between  a 
timorous  courage  and  a  calm  diffidence,  how,  in  Suez, 
she  had  drawn  out  a  business  man,  unnamed,  but  well 
approved  and  quite  disinterested,  to  say  that  she  might 
tell  Mr.  March  that,  in  his  conviction,  unless  he  got  rid 
of  certain  persons — etc. 

"I  can  tell  you  who  it  was,  if  you  care  to  know. 
He  said  I  might." 

"  No,"  said  John,  thoughtfully.  "  Never  mind." 
And  they  heard  their  own  footsteps  for  full  two  min 
utes.  Then  he  said,  "  Miss  Barb,  suppose  he  is  disin 
terested  and  sincere.  Say  he  were  my  best  friend. 
The  thing's  a  simple  matter  of  arithmetic.  So  long  as 
your  father  and  Jeff-Jack  and  I  hang  together  there 
are  not  enough  votes  in  the  company  to  do  anything  we 
don't  want  done.  I  admit  we've  given  some  compara 
tive  strangers  a  strong  foothold  ;  but  your  father  trusts 
them,  and,  if  need  be,  can  watch  them.  Does  anybody 
know  men  better  than  Jeff- Jack  does?  But  he  knew 
just  what  we  were  doing  when  he  consented  to  take 
charge  of  the  three  counties'  interests ;  however,  I 
admit  that  doesn't  prove  anything.  Miss  Barb,  I  know 


THIS  TIME  SHE    WARNS  HIM  355 

who  said  what  you've  told  me,  and  I  esteem  and  honor 
and  love  him  as  much  as  you  do — wait,  please.  O 
smile  ahead,  if  you  like,  only  let  me  finish.  You  know 
we  must  take  some  risks,  and  while  I  thank  him — and 
you,  too,  even  if  you  do  speak  merely  for  your  father's 
sake — I  tell  you  the  best  moves  a  man  ever  makes  are 
those  he  makes  against  the  warnings  of  his  friends ! 
'  Try  not  the  pass,  the  old  man  said,'  don't  you  know  ? " 

"  This  wasn't  an  old  man." 

"Wasn't  it  General  Halliday?" 

"  Xo,  sir,  it  was  the  younger  Mr.  Fair." 

"  Henry  Fair,"  said  John  very  quietly.  He  slack 
ened  his  pace.  He  did  not  believe  Fair  cared  that 
much  for  him  ;  but  it  was  easy  to  suppose  he  might 
seize  so  good  a  chance  to  say  a  word  for  Miss  Garnet's 
own  sake. 

"  Miss  Barb,  I  don't  doubt  he  thinks  what  he  says. 
I  see  now  why  he  failed  to  subscribe  to  our  stock,  after 
coming  so  far  entirely,  or  almost  entirely,  to  do  it.  He 
little  knows  how  he  disappointed  me.  I  didn't  want  his 
capital,  Miss  Barb,  half  as  much  as  his  fellowship  in  a 
beautiful  enterprise." 

"  He  was  as  much  disappointed  as  you,  Mr.  March ; 
I  happen  to  know  it." 

John  looked  at  his  informant ;  but  her  head  was 
down  once  more. 

"Well,"  he  said,  cheerily,  "I'll  just  have  to  wait  till 
— till  I — till  I've  shown  " — a  beggar  child  was  annoy 
ing  him — "shown  Fair  and  all  of  them  that  I'm  not 

so  green  as  I "  He  felt  for  a  coin,  stood  still, 

and  turned  red.  "Miss — Miss  Barb "  A  smile 


356  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

widened  over  his  face,  and  lie  burst  into  a  laugh  that 
grew  till  the  tears  came. 

"What's  the  matter?  "  asked  Barbara  anxiously,  yet 
laughing  with  him. 

"  Oh,  I — I've  let  somebody  pick  my  pockets.  Yes, 
every  cent's  gone  and  my  ticket  to  New  York.  I  had 
no  luck  here  yesterday,  and  I  was  going  on  to  New 
York  to-morrow."  He  laughed  again,  but  ceased  ab- 
<!  ruptly.  "  Good  gracious,  Miss  Barb  !  my  watch  ! — my 
father's  watch  !  "  The  broad  smile  on  his  lips  could  not 
hide  the  grief  in  his  eyes. 


IX. 

A    PERFECT    UNDERSTANDING 

As  they  resumed  their  way  Barbara  did  most  of  the 
talking.  She  tried  so  hard  to  make  his  loss  appear 
wholly  attributable  to  her,  that  only  the  sweetness  of 
her  throat  and  chin  and  the  slow  smoothness  of  her 
words  saved  her  from  seeming  illogical.  She  readily 
got  his  admission  that  the  theft  might  have  been  done 
in  that  archway  as  the  engine  rushed  by.  Very  good ! 
And  without  her,  she  reasoned,  he  would  not  have 
stopped.  "  Or,  if  you  had  stopped,"  she  softly  droned, 
with  her  eyes  on  her  steps,  "  you  would  have  had " 

"  Oh,  now,  what  would  I  have  had  ? " 

"  Your  hands  in  your  pockets." 


A  PERFECT  UNDERSTANDING 

"  That's  not  my  habit." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  March  !  " 

"  My  d-car  ]\Iiss  Barb  !  I  should  think  I  ought  to 
know!" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  that's  why  I  tell  you."  They  laughed  in 
partners!]  ip. 

Mr.  March  was  entirely  right,  Barbara  resumed,  not 
to  toll  liis  mishap  to  the  Fairs,  or  to  anyone,  anywhere, 
then  or  thereafter.  "  But  you're  cruel  to  me  not  to  let 
me  lend  you  enough  to  avoid  the  rev-e-la-tion."  That 
was  the  utmost  she  would  say.  If  he  couldn't  see  that 
she  would  rather  lose — not  to  say  lend — every  dollar 
she  had,  than  have  anyone  know  where  her  hand  was 
when  his  pocket  was  picked,  he  might  stay  just  as  stupid 
as  he  was.  She  remained  silent  so  long  that  John 
looked  at  her,  but  did  not  perceive  that  she  was  ready 
to  cry.  She  wore  a  glad  smile  as  she  said: 

"  I've  got  more  money  with  me  than  I  ought  to  be 
carrying,  anyhow." 

"  Why,  Miss  Bar!),  you  oughtn't  to  do  that';  how  does 
that  happen  ?  "  lie  spoke  with  the  air  of  one  who  had 
never  in  his  life  lost  a  cent  by  carelessness. 

"  It's  not  so  very  much,"  was  her  reply.  "  It's  for 
my  share  of  Rosemont.  I  sold  it  to  pop-a." 

"What!  just  now  when  the  outlook  for  Rosemont — 
why,  Miss  Barb,  I  do  believe  you  did  it  to  keep  clear 
of  our  land  company,  didn't  you  ?  " 

"  Mr.  March,  I  wish  you  would  let  me  lend  you  some 
of  it,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  Xo,  I'll  be — surprised  if  I  do.  Oh,  Miss  Barb,  I 
thank  you  just  the  same ;  but  my  father,  Miss  Barb, 


358  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

gave  it  to  me,  as  a  canon  of  chivalry,  never  to  make  a 
money  bargain  with  a  lady  that  you  can't  make  with 
a  bank.  If  I'm  not  man  enough  to  get  out  of  this 
pinch  without — oh,  pshaw !  " 

In  the  hotel,  at  the  head  of  the  ladies'  staircase,  they 
stood  alone. 

"Good-by,"  said  John,  unwillingly.  "I'll  see  you 
this  evening,  shan't  I,  when  I  come  up  to  say  good-by 
to  your  friends  ?  " 

Barbara  said  he  would.  They  shook  hands,  each 
pair  of  eyes  confessing  to  the  other  the  superfluity  of 
the  ceremony. 

"  Good-by,"  said  John  again,  as  if  he  had  not  said  it 
twice  already. 

"  Good-by.  Mr.  March,  if  you  want  to  give  secur 
ities — as  you  would  to  a  bank — I — I  shouldn't  want 
anything  better  than  your  mother's  poems." 

He  glowed  with  gratitude  and  filial  vanity,  his  big 
hand  tightening  on  hers.  "  Oh,  Miss  Barb !  no,  no ! 
But  God  bless  you  !  I  wonder  if  anyone  else  was  ever 
so  much  like  sunshine  in  a  prison  window  !  Good-by  !  " 
She  felt  her  hand  lifted  by  his  ;  but,  when  she  increased 
its  weight  the  merest  bit,  he  let  it  sink  again  and  slide 
from  his  fingers. 

He  was  gone,  and  a  moment  later  she  was  with  the 
Fairs,  talking  slowly,  with  soft  smiles  ;  but  her  head 
swam,  she  heard  their  pleasant  questions  remotely 
as  through  a  wall,  and  could  feel  her  pulse  to  her  fin 
gers  and  feet.  He  had  almost  kissed  her  hand.  "  The 
next  time — the  next  time — sweet  heaven  send  this  poor 
hand  strength  to  resist  just  enough  and — and  not  too 


A  PERFECT  UNDERSTANDING  359 

much."  So  raved  the  prayer  locked  in  her  heart,  or  so 
it  would  have  raved  had  she  dared  give  it  the  liberty 
even  of  unspoken  words. 

Meanwhile,  John  March  lay  on  his  bed  with  the 
back  of  his  head  in  his  hands. 

"  I've  offended  her !  There  was  no  mistaking  that 
last  look.  This  wouldn't  have  happened  if  she  hadn't 
let  her  hand  linger  in  mine.  Oh,  I  wish  to  heaven 
girls  were  not  so  senselessly  innocent  and  sisterly ! 
Great  Cccsar  !  I'd  give  five  hundred  dollars  not  to  have 
drooled  that  drivel  about  being  her  brother !  George ! 
She  ought  to  know  that  only  a  fool  or  a  scamp  could 
make  such  an  absurd  proposal.  I  wonder  if  she  still 
wants  to  lend  me  her  money  !  I'd  rather  face  a  whole 
bank  directorate  with  an  overdrawn  account  than  those 
Fairs  this  evening.  I  know  exactly  how  they'll  look. 
For  it  will  be  just  like  her  to  tell  Mrs.  Fair,  who'll  tell 
her  husband,  and  they'll  bury  the  thing  right  there 
with  me  under  it,  and  *  Miss  Garnet '  will  excuse  herself 
on  the  plea  of  fatigue,  and  the  conversation  will  drag, 
and  I'll  wish  I  had  cut  my  throat  in  Pulaski  City, 

and  " — a  steeple  clock  tolled  the  hour "  Oh,  can 

it  be  that  that's  only  six  !  " 

At  tea  he  missed  them.  Returning  to  his  room,  he 
had  hardly  got  his  hands  under  his  head  again,  trying 
not  to  think  of  his  financial  embarrassments  because  it 
was  Sunday,  when  a  new  idea  brought  him  to  his  feet. 
Church  !  Evening  service  !  Would  she  go  ?  He  had 
not  asked  her  when  she  had  intimated  that  the  Fairs 
would  not.  In  his  selfish  enjoyment  of  her  society  he 
had  quite  forgotten  to  care  for  her  soul !  He  ought  to 


360  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

go  himself.  And  all  the  more  ought  she,  for  he  was 
numbered  among  the  saved  now,  and  she  Avas  not.  She 
must  go.  But  how  could  she  unless  he  should  take 
her  ?  His  Christian  duty  was  clear.  He  would  write 
an  offer  of  his  services,  and  by  her  answer  he  would 
know  how  he  stood  in  her  regard. 

Her  reply  was  prompt,  affirmative,  confined  to  the 
subject.  And  yet,  in  some  inexplicable  way  it  conveyed 
the  impression  that  she  had  never  suspected  him  of 
the  faintest  intention  to  carry  her  hand  to  his  lips. 

The  sermon  was  only  so-so,  but  they  enjoyed  the  sing 
ing  ;  particularly  their  own.  Both  sang  from  one  book, 
with  much  reserve,  yet  with  such  sweetly  persuasive 
voices  that  those  about  them  first  listened  and  then 
added  their  own  very  best.  The  second  tune  was 
"Geer,"  and,  with  John's  tenor  going  up  every  time 
Barbara's  soprano  came  down,  and  -vice  versa,  it  was  as 
lovely  see-sawing  as  ever  thrilled  the  heart  of  youth 
with  pure  and  undefiled  religion.  They  sang  the  last 
hymn  to  "  Dennis."  It  was, 

"Blest  be  the  tie  that  binds 
Our  hearts  in  Christian  love  !  " 

and  they  gratefully  accepted  the  support  of  four  good, 
sturdy,  bass  voices  behind  them.  But  it  was  the  words 
themselves,  of  the  fourth  and  fifth  stanzas,  that  inspired 
their  richest  yet  softest  tones,  while  the  four  basses 
behind  them  rather  grew  louder : 

"  When  we  asunder  part 
It  gives  us  inward  pain, 
But  we  shall  still  be  joined  in  heart 
And  hope  to  meet  again. 


A  PERFECT  UNDERSTANDING  361 

"  This  glorious  hope  revives 
Our  courage  by  the  way, 
While  each  in  expectation  lives 
And  longs  to  see  the  day." 

On  the  sidewalk  the  four  basses  again  raised  their  four 
silk  bats  and  vanished.  They  were  the  commercial 
travelers. 

As  the  two  worshippers  returned  toward  their  hotel, 
Barbara  spoke  glowingly  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fair  ;  their 
perfect  union  ;  their  beautiful  companionship.  John, 
in  turn,  ventured  to  tell  of  the  unbounded  esteem  with 
which  he  had  ever  looked  upon  Barbara's  mother. 
They  dwelt,  in  tones  of  indulgent  amusement,  on  the 
day,  the  hour,  the  scene,  of  John's  first  coming  to  the 
college,  specially  memorable  to  him  as  the  occasion  of 
his  first  real  meeting  of  the  Rose  of  Rosemont.  Barbara 
said  the  day  would  always  be  bright  to  her  as  the  one  on 
which  she  first  came  into  personal  contact  with  Judge 
March.  John  spoke  ardently  of  his  father. 

"  And,  by  the  bye,  that  day  was  the  first  on  which  I 
ever  truly  saw  you." 

"  Or  Johanna  !  "  said  Barbara.  "Johanna's  keeping 
Fannie  Ravenel's  new  house.  She's  to  stay  with  her 
till  I  get  back."  But  John  spoke  again  of  Barbara's 
mother,  asking  permission  to  do  so. 

"Yes,  certainly,"  murmured  his  companion.  "In 
general  I  don't  revere  sacred  things  as  I  should,"  she 
continued,  with  her  arm  in  her  escort's,  and  "  Blest  be 
the  tie  " — still  dragging  in  their  adagio  footsteps  ;  "but 
my  mother  has  all  my  life  been  so  sacred  to  me — not 
that  she  was  of  the  sort  that  they  call  otherworldly — I 


362  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

don't  care  for  otherworldliness  nearly  as  much  as  I 
should " 

"  Don't  you  ?  "  regretfully  asked  John  ;  "  that's  one  of 
my  faults  too." 

"  No  ;  but  I've  always  revered  mom-a  so  deeply  that 
except  once  or  twice  to  Fannie,  when  Fannie  spoke  first, 
I've  never  talked  about  her."  Yet  Barbara  went  on 
telling  of  her  mother  from  a  full  heart,  her  ears  ravished 
by  the  music  of  John's  interjected  approvals.  They 
talked  again  of  his  father  also,  and  found  sweet  resem 
blances  between  the  two  dear  ones.  Only  as  they  re- 
entered  the  hotel  were  both  at  once  for  a  moment  silent. 
Half  way  up  the  stairs,  among  the  foliage  plants  of  a 
landing  ablaze  with  gas,  they  halted,  while  John,  be 
ginning, 

"  Two  hearts  that  love  the  same  fair  things  " — 

recited  one  of  his  mother's  shorter  poems. 

"  Why,  Mr.  March !  "  His  hearer's  whisper  only 
emphasized  her  sincere  enthusiasm.  "  Did  your  mother 
—why,  that's  per-fect-ly  beau-ti-ful  !  " 

They  parted,  but  soon  met  again  in  one  of  the  parlors. 
Mrs.  Fair  came,  too,  but  could  not  linger,  having  left 
Mr.  Fair  upstairs  asleep  on  a  lounge.  She  bade  Barbara 
stay  and  hear  all  the  manuscript  poems  Mr.  March 
could  be  persuaded  to  read,  and  only  regretted  that 
her  duty  upstairs  prevented  her  remaining  herself. 
"Good-by,"  she  said  to  John.  "Now,  whenever  you 
come  to  Boston,  remember,  you're  to  come  directly 
to  us." 

John  responded  gratefully,  and  Barbara,  as  the  two 


A  PERFECT  UNDERSTANDING  363 

sat  down  upon  a  very  small  divan  with  the  batch  of 
manuscript  between  them,  told  him,  in  a  melodious 
undertone,  that  she  feared  she  couldn't  stay  long. 

"What's  that?"  she  asked,  as  he  took  up  the  first 
leaf  to  put  it  by. 

"  This  ?  Oh,  this  is  the  poem  I  tried  to  recite  to  you 
on  the  stairs." 

"  Eead  it  again,"  she  said,  not  in  her  usual  monotone, 
but  with  a  soft  eagerness  of  voice  and  eye  quite  new  to 
him,  and  extremely  stimulating.  He  felt  an  added 
exaltation  when,  at  the  close  of  the  middle  stanza,  he 
saw  her  hands  knit  into  each  other  and  a  gentle  rapt 
ure  shining  through  her  drooping  lashes  ;  and  at  the 
end,  when  she  sighed  her  admiration  in  only  one  or  two 
half-formed  words,  twinkled  her  feet  and  bit  her  lip, 
his  exaltation  rose  almost  to  inebriety.  He  could  have 
sat  there  and  read  to  her  all  night. 

Yet  that  was  the  only  poem  she  heard.  The  title  of 
the  next  one,  John  said  as  he  lifted  it,  was,  "  If  I  should 
love  again  ;  "  but  Barbara  asked  a  dreamy  question  of  a 
very  general  character ;  he  replied,  then  asked  one  in 
turn  ;  they  discussed — she  introducing  the  topic — the 
religious  duty  and  practicability  of  making  all  one's 
life  and  each  and  every  part  of  it  good  poetry,  and  the 
inner  and  outer  conditions  essential  thereunto ;  and 
when  two  strange  ladies  came  in  and  promptly  went  out 
again  John  glanced  at  the  mantel-clock,  exclaimed  his 
surprise  at  the  hour,  and  gathering  up  the  manuscript, 
rose  to  say  his  parting  word. 

"  Good-by."     His  hand-grasp  was  fervent. 

"  Good-by,"  replied  the  maiden. 


364  JOHN  MARCH,   SOUTHERNER 

"  Miss  Barb  " — lie  kept  her  hand — "  I  want  a  word, 
and,  honestly — I — don't  know  what  it  is  !  Doesn't 
good-by  seem  to  you  mighty  weak,  by  itself?  " 

"  Why,  that  depends.  It's  got  plenty  of  po-ten-ti- 
al-i-ty  if  you  give  it  its  old  sig-nif-i-ca-tion." 

"  Well,  I  do — every  bit  of  it !  Do  you,  Miss  Barb — 
to  me?" 

She  gave  such  answer  with  her  steady  eyes  that  her 
questioner's  mind  would  have  lost  its  balance  had  she 
not  smiled  so  lightly. 

"Still,"  he  responded,  "  ^ood-by  is  such  unclaimed 
property  that  I  want  another  word  to  sort  o'  fence  it  in, 
you  know." 

The  maiden  only  looked  more  amused  than  before. 

"  I  don't  want  it  to  mean  too  much,  you  understand," 
explained  he.  The  hand  in  his  grew  heavier,  but  his 
grasp  tightened  on  it.  "  Yet  don't  you  think  these  last 
three  days'  companionship  deserves  a  word  of  its  own  ? 
Miss  Barb,  you've  been — and  in  my  memory  you  will 
be  henceforth — a  crystalline  delight !  The  word's  not 
mine,  it's  from  one  of  my  mother's  sweetest  tilings. 
Can't  I  say  good-by,  thou  '  crystalline  delight '  ?  " 

"  Why,  Mr.  March,"  said  Barbara,  softly  pulling  at 
her  hand.  "I  don't  particularly  like  the  implication 
that  I'm  per-fect-ly  trans-par-ent." 

"  Now,  Miss  Barb  !  as  if  I — oh  pshaw  !  Good-by." 
He  lifted  her  hand.  She  made  it  very  light.  He  held 
it  well  up,  looking  down  on  it  fondly.  "This,"  he  said, 
"  is  the  little  friend  that  wanted  to  help  me  out  of  trouble. 
Good-by,  little  friend  ;  I  "—his  lips  approached  it — "I 
love  you." 


A  PERFEC7"  UNDERSTANDING  365 

It  flashed  from  his  hand  like  a  bird  from  the  nest. 
"  No-o  !  "  moaned  its  owner. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Gar— Miss  Barb !  "  groaned  John, 
"  you've  utterly  misunderstood." 

"  No  " — Barbara  had  not  yet  blushed,  but  now  she 
crimsoned — "  I've  not  misunderstood  you.  I  simply 
don't  like  that  way  of  saying ' 

"  I  didn't  mean " 

"  I  know  it,  Mr.  March.  I  know  perfectly  well  you 
don't  expect  ever  to  mean  anything  to  anybody  any 
more  ;  you  consider  it  a  sheer  im-pos-si-bil-i-ty.  That's 
the  keystone  of  our  friendship." 

John  hemmed.  "  I  wouldn't  say  impossibility ;  I'd 
say  impracticability.  It's  an  impracticability,  Miss 
Barb,  that's  all.  Why,  every  time  I  think  of  my  dear 
sweet  little  mother " 

"  Oh,  Mr  March,  that's  right !  She  must  have  your 
whole  thought  and  care  !  " 

"  She  shall  have  it,  Miss  Barb,  at  every  cost !  as  com 
pletely  as  I  know  your  father  has  and  ought  to  have 
yours !  "  He  took  her  hand.  "  Good-by  !  The  un 
derstanding's  perfect  now,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  I  think  so — I  hope  so — yes,  sir." 

"Say, 'Yes,  John.'" 

"  Oh,  Mr.  March,  I  can't  say  that." 

"  Why,  then,  it  isn't  perfect." 

"Yes,  it  is." 

"  Well,  then,  Miss  Garnet,  with  the  perfect  under 
standing  that  the  understanding  is  perfect,  I  propose  to 
bid  this  hand  good-by  in  a  fitting  and  adequate  manner, 
and  trust  I  shall  not  be  inter — ! — rupted  !  Good-by." 


366  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

"  Oh,  Mr.  March,  I  don't  think  that  was  either  fair 
or  right !  "  Her  eyes  glistened. 

"  Miss  Barb,  it  wasn't !  Oh,  I  see  it  now  !  It  was  a 
wretched  mistake !  Forgive  me  !  " 

Her  eyes,  staring  up  into  his,  filled  to  the  brim.  She 
waved  him  away  and  turned  half  aside.  He  backed  to 
the  door  and  paused. 

"Miss  Barb,  one  look!  Oh,  one  look,  just  to  show 
I'm  not  utterly  unforgiven  and  cast  out !  I  promise 
you  it's  all  I'll  ever  ask — one  look !  " 

"  Good-by,"  she  murmured,  but  could  not  trust  her 
self  to  move. 

He  stifled  a  moan.  She  gave  a  start  of  pain.  He 
thought  it  meant  impatience.  She  took  an  instant 
more  for  self-command  and  then  lifted  a  smile.  Too 
late,  he  was  gone ! 


LXI. 

A   SICK    MAN   AND   A   SICK    HORSE 

"  THANK  you,  no,"  said  Miss  Garnet  at  the  door  of 
Mrs.  Fair's  room,  refusing  to  enter.  "  I  rapped  only  to 
say  good-night." 

To  the  question  Avhether  she  had  heard  all  the  poems 
read  she  replied,  "  Xot  all,"  with  so  sweet  an  irony  in 
her  grave  smile  that  Mrs.  Fair  wanted  to  tell  her  she 
looked  like  the  starlight.  But  words  are  clumsy,  and 


A   SICK  MAN  AND  A   SICK  HORSE  367 

the  admirer  satisfied  herself  with  a  kiss  on  the  girl's 
temple.  "  Good-night,"  she  said  ;  "  dream  of  me." 

Several  times  next  day,  as  the  three  travelers  wound 
their  swift  course  through  the  mountains  of  Pennsyl 
vania,  Mrs.  Fair  observed  Barbara  sink  her  book  to 
her  lap  and  with  an  abstracted  gaze  on  the  landscape 
softly  touch  the  back  of  her  right  hand  with  the  fingers 
of  her  left.  It  puzzled  her  at  first,  but  by  and  by — • 

"  Poor  boy  !  "  she  said  to  herself,  in  that  inmost  heart 
where  no  true  woman  ever  takes  anyone  into  council, 
"  and  both  of  you  Southerners  !  If  that's  all  you  got, 
and  you  had  to  steal  that,  you're  both  of  you  better 
than  I'd  have  been." 

When  about  noon  she  saw  her  husband's  eyes  fixed 
on  Barbara,  sitting  four  seats  away,  she  asked,  with  a 
sparkle  :  "  Thinking  of  Mr.  March  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I've  guessed  why  he's  stayed  behind." 

"  Have  you  ?     That's  quick  work — for  a  man." 

"  It  looks  to-day  as  if  he  were  out  of  the  game,  doesn't 
it?" 

The  lady  mused.     This  time  the  husband  twinkled : 

"  If  he  is,  my  dear,  whom  should  we  congratulate : 
all  three  or  which  twro  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  yet,  my  love.  AVait.  Wait  till 
we've  tried  her  in  Boston." 

At  this  hour  John  March  was  imperatively  engrossed 
by  an  unforseen  discovery.  Tossing  on  his  bed  the 
night  before,  he  had  decided  not  to  telegraph  to  Suez 
for  money  until  he  had  searched  all  the  hotels  for  some 
one  from  Dixie  who  would  exclaim,  "  Why,  with  the 
greatest  pleasure,"  or  words  to  that  effect.  In  the 


368  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

morning  lie  was  up  betimes  and  off  on  this  errand,  ask 
ing  himself  why  he  had  not  done  it  the  evening  before, 
but  concluding  he  must  have  foreborne  out  of  respect 
for  the  Sabbath. 

At  the  first  hotel  his  search  had  no  reward.  But  in 
the  second  he  found  a  Pulaski  City  man,  whose  ac 
quaintance  he  had  never  previously  prized,  yet  from 
whom  he  now  hid  four-fifths  of  his  surprised  delight 
and  still  betrayed  enough  to  flatter  the  fellow  dizzy. 
John  took  him  back  to  his  own  hotel  for  breakfast, 
made  sure  he  had  only  to  ask  a  loan  to  get  it,  and  let 
him  go  at  last,  unable  to  get  the  request  through  his 
own  teeth. 

He  went  to  a  third  hotel,  but  found  only  strangers. 
Then  he  went  to  a  fourth,  explored  its  rotunda  in  vain, 
turned  three  or  four  leaves  of  its  register,  and  was  giv 
ing  a  farewell  glance  to  the  back  page,  when  he  started 
with  surprise. 

"  I  see,"  he  said  to  the  clerk,  "  I  see  you  have — will 
you  kindly  look  this  way  a  moment?  Are  these  per 
sons  still  with  you  ?  " 

"  They  are,  sir,"  said  the  clerk,  gazing  absently  be 
yond  him,  and  took  March's  card.  "  Front !  I'll  have 
to  send  it  to  the  lady,  sir ;  Colonel  Ravenel's  sick.  What  ? 
Oh,  well,  sir,  if  you  think  pneumonia's  slight —  Yes, 
sir,  that's  what  he's  got."  He  was  turning  away 
contemptuously,  but  John  said : 

"  Oh  ! — eh — one  moment  more,  if  you  please." 

"  Well,  sir,  what  is  it  ?  "  The  man  gave  his  ear  in 
stead  of  his  eye ;  but  he  gave  both  eyes,  as  John  giving 
both  his,  asked  deferentially : 


A   SfCA'  MAAr  AXD  A   SICK  HORSE  369 

"  Do  you  own  all  the  hotels  in  this  town,  sir,  or  are 
you  merely  a  clerk  of  this  one  ?  " 

The  card  went,  and  a  bell-boy  presently  led  the 
way  to  Fannie' s  door.  It  stood  unlatched.  The  boy 
pushed  it  ajar,  and  John  met  only  his  frowning  image 
reflected  full  length  in  the  mirror-front  of  a  folding- 
bed,  until  a  door  opened  softly  from  the  adjoining  room 
and  closed  again,  and  Fannie,  pale  and  vigil  worn,  but 
with  ecstasy  in  her  black  eyes,  murmured  : 

"  Oh,  John  March,  I  never  knew  I  could  be  quite  so 
glad  to  see  you  !  " 

She  pressed  his  hand  rapturously  between  her  two, 
dropped  it  playfully,  and  saw  that  there  had  come  be 
tween  them  a  nearness  and  a  farness  different  from  any 
that  had  ever  been.  John  felt  the  same  thing,  but  did 
not  guess  that  this  was  why  her  smile  was  grateful  and 
yet  had  a  pang  in  it.  There  was  a  self-oblivious  kind 
ness  in  his  murmur  as  he  refused  a  seat. 

"  Xo,  I  mustn't  keep  you  a  moment.  Only  tell  me 
what  I  can  do  for  you." 

She  explained  that  she  would  have  to  go  back  into 
the  sick-room  and  return  again,  as  the  physician  was  in 
there,  and  Jeff-Jack  was  unaware,  and  ought  probably 
to  be  kept  unaware,  of  any  other  visitor's  presence. 

John  said  he  would  wait  and  hear  the  doctor's  pro 
nouncements  and  her  commands.  When  she  came  the 
second  time  this  person  appeared  with  her.  Beyond  a 
soft  introduction  there  were  only  a  few  words,  and  the 
twro  men  went  away  together.  As  Fannie  returned  and 
bent  cheerily  over  the  bridegroom's  bed,  she  was  totally 
surprised  by  his  feeble,  bright-eyed  request. 


370  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

"  When  John  March  comes  back  with  the  medicine 
I  want  to  see  him." 

The  man  to  whom  Fannie  had  introduced  John  was 
of  a  sort  much  newer  to  him  than  to  travelers  gener 
ally — a  typical  physician-in-ordinary  to  a  hotel.  He 
wore  a  dark-blue  overcoat  abundantly  braided  and 
frogged ;  his  sheared  mustaches  were  dyed  black,  and 
his  diamond  scarf-pin,  a  pendant,  was  chained  to  his 
shirt.  As  they  drove  to  a  favorite  apothecary's  some 
distance  away,  John  told  why  he  had  come  North,  and 
the  doctor  said  he  had  a  cousin  living  at  the  hotel  who 
had  capital,  and  happened  just  then  to  be  looking- 
for  investments.  It  would  be  no  trouble  at  all  to 
drive  Mr.  March  back  from  the  apothecary's  and 
make  him  acquainted  with  Mr.  Bulger.  Was  Mr. 
March  fond  of  horses?  Good!  Bulger  owned  the 
fastest  span  in  the  city,  and  drove  them  every  morn 
ing  at  ten. 

In  fact,  before  they  quite  reached  the  hotel  again 
they  came  upon  the  capitalist,  ribbons  in  hand,  just 
leaving  a  public  stable  behind  such  a  pair  of  trotters 
that  John  exclaimed  at  sight  of  them  and  accepted 
with  alacrity  a  scat  by  his  side.  As  for  the  medicine, 
the  physician  himself  took  it  to  Mrs.  Ravenel,  explained 
that  John  would  be  along  in  an  hour  or  two,  and  said, 
"Yes,  the  patient  could  see  Mr.  March  briefly,  but 
must  talk  as  little  as  possible." 

Four  or  five  times  during  the  next  seven  or  eight 
hours  the  sick  man's  eyes  compelled  Fannie  to  say : 
"I  don't  know  why  he  doesn't  come."  And  at  evening 
with  an  open  note  in  her  hand,  a  smile  on  her  lips,  and 


A   SICK  MAN  AND  A   SICK  HORSE  371 

a  new  loneliness  in  her  heart,  she  announced  :  "  He 
says  he  will  be  here  early  in  the  morning." 

Mr.  Bulger  was  large,  heavy,  and  clean-shaven,  as 
became  a  capitalist ;  but  his  overcoat  was  buff,  with  a 
wide  trimming  of  fur,  and  his  yellow  hair  was  parted 
in  the  back  and  perfumed.  March  did  not  mind  this, 
but  he  was  truly  sorry  to  notice,  very  quickly,  that  his 
companion's  knowledge  of  horses  was  mostly  a  news 
paper  knowledge.  While  Mr.  Bulger  quoted  turf  rec 
ords,  John  said  to  himself: 

"  Wonder  how  far  he'll  drive  before  lie  sees  his  nigh 
horse  is  sick." 

But  very  soon  the  owner  of  the  team  remarked  : 
"  The  mare  seems  droopy." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Bulger,"  replied  John,  almost  explosively, 
"  she's  going  to  be  a  very  sick  animal  before  you  can 
get  her  back  to  the  stable,  if  you  ever  get  her  back  at 
all.  If  we  don't  do  the  right  thing  right  off,  you'll  lose 
her.  I  wouldn't  stop  them,  sir.  My  conscience  !  don't 
let  her  stand  here,  or  she'll  be  so  stiff,  directly,  you 
can't  make  her  go  !  " 

"  Yes,  I  guess  you're  right,"  said  Bulger,  moving  on. 
"  If  I  can  just  get  her  home  and  out  of  harness  and  let 
her  lie  down " 

"  If  you  do,  sir,  she'll  never  get  up  again." 

"  By  Jo'  !  "  exclaimed  the  owner  of  the  horse.  "  I 
don't  want  that !  "  He  looked  grimly  on  the  gentle 
sufferer.  "See  her,"  he  presently  said ;  "  why,  I  never 
saw  anything  get  sick  so  fast.  Why,  Mr.  March,  I'm 
afraid  she's  going  to  die  right  here !  Half  an  hour  ago 
I  wouldn't  'a'  sold  that  mare  for  two  thousand  dollars ! 


372  JOHN  MARCH,   SOUTHERNER 

Mr.  March,  if  you  can  save  her  you  may  have  all  the 
doctors  you  want,  and  I'll  pay  you  a  hundred  dollars 
yourself  as  quick  as  I'd  pay  you  one  !  " 

"  Give  me  the  reins/'  was  John's  response.  "  Where's 
the  very  nearest  good  stable  ?  " 

There  was  one  not  far  away.  lie  turned  and  soon 
reached  it.  As  they  stopped  in  its  door  the  beautiful 
creature  in  his  care  was  trembling  in  all  her  flesh,  and 
dripping  sweat  from  every  pore.  The  ready  grooms 
helped  him  unharness. 

"I'll  send  for  a  doctor,  shan't  I?"  said  Bulger, 
twice,  before  John  heard  him. 

"  Yes,  if  you  know  a  real  one ;  but  I'll  have  every 
thing  done  before  he  gets  here.  Here,  you,  fetch  a 
blanket.  Somebody  bring  me  some  fine  salt — oh,  a 
double  handful — a  tumblerful — to  rub  her  back  with— 
only  be  quick  !  " 

In  a  moment  the  harness  had  given  place  to  halter 
and  blanket,  and  the  weak  invalid  stiffly  followed 
John's  firm  leading  over  the  sawdust. 

Three  hours  later  Bulger  said,  "She's  a  good  deal 
better,  ain't  she  ?  "  and  when  March  smiled  fondly  on 
her  and  replied  that  he  "  should  say  so,"  her  owner 
suggested  luncheon. 

"  No,"  said  John,  "  you  go  and  eat ;  I  shan't  leave  her 
till  she's  well.  She  mustn't  lie  down,  and  I  can't  trust 
anyone  to  keep  her  from  doing  it." 

Two  or  three  times  more  Bulger  went  and  came 
again,  and  the  lamps  were  being  lighted  in  the  streets 
when  at  last  John  remarked, 

"  Well,  sir,  you  can  harness  her  up  now  and  drive 


RA  VENEL   THINKS  HE  MUST  373 

her  home.  Nice  gyirl !  Nice  gyirl !  Did  you  think 
us  was  gwine  to  let  you  curl  up  and  die  out  yond'  in  the 
street  ?  No,  missie,  no  !  you  nice  ole  gyirl,  doggone  yo' 
sweet  soul,  no  !  " 

"  Mr.  March,"  said  Bulger,  "  I  said  I'd  pay  you  a 
hundred  dollars  if  you'd  cure  her,  didn't  I  ?  Well, 
here's  my  check  for  half  of  it,  and  if  you  just  say  the 
word  I'll  make  another  for  the  other  half." 

John  pushed  away  the  proffering  hand  with  a  pleased 
laugh.  "  I  can't  take  pay  for  doctoring  a  horse,  sir, 
but  I  will  ask  a  favor  of  you — in  fact,  I'll  ask  two; 
and  the  first  is,  Come  and  have  dinner  with  me,  will 
you?" 

And  when  John  called  on  Fannie  the  next  morning, 
Mr.  Bulger  had  taken  a  train  for  Suez,  expecting  to 
return  in  three  days  subscriber  for  all  the  land  com 
pany's  stock  left  untaken  through  the  prudence  of  the 
younger  Fair.  John  had  treated  himself  to  a  handsome 
new  pocketbook. 


LXII. 

RAVEN  EL    THINKS    HE    MUST 

"  So  you'll  be  leaving  us  at  once !  "  said  Fannie,  as 
the  two  sat  by  Ravenel's  bed. 

"  No,  not  till  Mr.  Bulger  gets  back.  I  can  be  up  to 
my  neck  in  work  till  then  on  the  colonization  side  of 


374  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

the   business."     They  bent   to    hear  the    bridegroom's 
words : 

"  Wish  you  wouldn't  go  East  till  Friday  evening, 
and  then  go  with  us." 

"  Why  Jeff-Jack  Ravenel,"  exclaimed  Fannie,  with 
a  careworn  laugh,  "  what  are  you  talking  about  ?  " 

"Not  much  fun  for  John,"  was  the  languishing 
reply,  "  but  big  favor  to  us." 

"  But,  my  goodness !  "  said  the  bride,  "  the  doctor 
won't  even  let  you  get  up." 

"  Got  to,"  responded  the  smiling  invalid.  "  Got  to  be 
in  Washington  next  Sunday." 

"  That's  simply  ridiculous,"  laughed  Fannie,  with  a 
pretty  toss,  and  sauntered  into  the  next  room,  closing 
the  door  between.  The  sick  man's  smile  increased : 

"  She's  going  in  there  to  cry,"  he  softly  drawled. 

"  You  can't  go,  Ravenel,"  said  March.  "  Why,  it'll 
kill  you,  like  as  not." 

"  Got  to  go,  John.     Politics." 

"  Oh,  the  other  fellows  can  work  it  without  you." 

"Yes,"  replied  the  smiling  lips,  "that's  why  I've  got 
to  be  there." 

The  subject  was  dropped.  That  was  Tuesday  morn 
ing.  John  called  twice  a  day  until  Thursday  evening. 
Each  time  he  came  Fannie  seemed  more  and  more  wan 
and  blighted,  though  never  less  courageous. 

"  She'll  be  sick  herself  if  she  doesn't  hire  a  nurse  and 
get  some  rest,"  said  the  doctor  to  John ;  but  her  idea  of 
a  hired  nurse  was  Southern,  and  she  would  not  hear  of 
it.  John  was  not  feeling  too  honest  these  days.  On 
the  evening  of  Thursday  he  came  nerved  up  to  mention 


RAVENEL  THINKS  HE  MUST  '3<0 

Miss  Garnet,  whom,  as  a  theme,  he  had  wholly  avoided 
whenever  Fannie  had  spoken  of  her.  But  the  moment 
he  met  Fannie,  in  the  outer  room,  he  was  so  cut  to  the 
heart  to  see  how  her  bridal  beauty  had  wasted  with  her 
strength  that  lie  could  only  beg  her  to  lie  down  an  hour, 
two,  three,  half  the  night,  the  whole  of  it,  while  he 
would  watch  and  tend  in  her  place.  He  would  take  it 
unkindly  if  she  did  not. 

"  Oh,  John  "  she  laughingly  replied,  "  you  forget !  " 
He  faintly  frowned. 

"  Yes,  Miss  Fannie,  I  try  to."  He  did  not  add  that 
he  had  procured  assistance. 

Her  response  was  a  gleam  of  loving  approval.  John 
noticed  seven  or  eight  minute  spots  on  her  face  and  rec 
ognized  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  that  they  were 
freckles. 

"  John,  did  the  doctor  tell  you  it  was  my  fault  that 
Jeff- Jack  got  this  sickness  ?  " 

"  No,  and  I  shouldn't  have  believed  it  if  he  had." 

"  Thank  you,  John  " — her  lifted  eyes  filled — "  thank 
you;  but  it  was;  it  was  my  fault,  and  nobody  shall 
watch  him  in  my  place."  It  would  have  made  a  differ 
ence  to  several  besides  herself,  had  she  known  that  the 
doctor  on  both  his  last  two  visits  had  forgotten  to  say 
that  no  one  need  any  longer  sit  up  all  night. 

John  called  again  Friday  morning.  School  himself 
as  best  he  could,  still  an  energy  in  his  mien  showed 
there  was  news  from  Suez. 

"  What  is  it,  old  man,"  asked  the  slow-voiced  invalid, 
"  have  they  made  the  new  slate  ?  " 

"  Yes,   and  the  bill's  passed  empowering   the  three 


376  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

counties  to  levy  the  tax  and  take  the  stock.  Oh,  Gar 
net's  a  wheel-horse,  yes,  sir-ee ! — and  Gamble  and  Bul 
ger  are  a  team !  Bulger  isn't  coming  back  for  a  while 
at  all ;  they've  made  him  secretary." 

A  perceptible  shade  came  over   Haveners  face,  al 
though  he  smiled  as  he  said, 

"  Absence  makes  the  heart  grow  fonder.  Have  they 
made  you  vice-president  ?  " 

"  Yea,  they  have !  I  no  more  expected  such  a  thing 
—I  knew  Gamble,  of  course,  would  be  president  and 
Champion  treasurer ;  but — Well,  they  say  I  can  push 
things  better  as  vice-president,  and  I  reckon  that's  so ; " 
said  John,  and  ceased  without  adding  that  his  salary 
was  continued  and  that  Bulger  would  draw  none. 

"  Where  does  Major  Garnet  come  in?  "  asked  Fannie. 

"  Oh,  he  still  declines  any  appointment  whatever,  but 
he's  made  up  another  company;  a  construction  com 
pany  to  take  our  contracts.  Proudfit's  president.  It's 
not  strongly  officered ;  but,  as  Garnet  says,  better 
have  men  we  can  dictate  to  than  men  who  might  try 
to  dictate  to  us.  And  besides,  except  Crickwater, 
they're  all  Suez  men.  Mattox  is  treasurer ;  Pettigrew's 
secretary." 

Fannie  wanted  to  say  that  Proudfit  had  no  means 
except  his  wife's,  but  was  still  because  a  small  rosy  spot 
on  either  cheek-bone  of  the  invalid  was  beginning  to 
betray  the  intensity  of  his  thought.  She  would  have 
motioned  to  John  to  tell  no  more,  if  she  could  have 
done  so  unseen  by  Ravenel.  However,  the  bridegroom 
himself  turned  the  theme. 

"  Are  you  going  down  there  before  you  go  East  ?  " 


RA  YEN  EL  THINKS  HE  MUST  377 

"  No,  Garnet  and  Bulger  both  urge  me  to  go  straight 
on.  I'm  mighty  sorry  I  can't  wait  till  you're  well 
enough  to  go  ;  but " 

On  the  pallid  face  in  the  pillow  came  the  gentlest  of 
smiles.  Its  fair,  thin  hand  held  toward  Fannie  a  bunch 
of  small  keys,  and  their  owner  said, 

"  I  wish,  while  you're  getting  your  fare  and  berth 
tickets,  you'd  get  two  of  each  for  us,  John,  will  you  ?  " 
lie  still  smilingly  held  out  the  keys. 

Fannie  sat  still.  She  tried  to  smile  but  turned  very 
pale.  "Jell- Jack,"  she  gasped,  "you  can't  go.  I  beg 
you,  don't  try.  I  beg  you,  Jeff-Jack." 

"  Got  to,  Fannie."  He  sat  up  in  the  bed.  John 
thrust  a  pillow  behind  him. 

"  Well,  I—  "  her  bloodless  lips  twitched  painfully — 
"  I  can't  let  you  go.  The  doctor  says  he  mustn't,  John." 

Ravenel  smiled  on.  "Got  to,  Fannie.  Come,  take 
these  and  get  John  my  pockctbook." 

Fannie  rose.  "  No,  I  tell  you  the  solemn  truth,  even 
if  you  could  go,  I  can't.  I  shouldn't  get  there  alive. 
You  certainly  wouldn't —  '  she  tried  to  speak  playfully 
— "  leave  me  behind,  would  you?  " 

"  Have  to,  Fannie.  State  interest — simply  impera 
tive.  Leave  you  plenty  money."  He  gave  the  keys  a 
little  shake.  Her  eyes  burned  through  him,  but  he 
smiled  on. 

She  took  the  keys.  As  she  passed  through  the  door 
between  the  two  rooms  she  supported  herself  against  the 
jamb.  John  rose  hurriedly,  but  stood  dumb.  In  a  few 
seconds  she  returned.  As  she  neared  him  she  seemed  to 
trip  on  the  carpet,  staggered,  fell,  and  would  have  struck 


3  7  8  JOHN  MA  R  CIS,  SO  U  THERNER 

the  floor  at  full  length  but  for  John's  quick  arms.  For 
an  instant  he  held  her  whole  slight  weight.  Her  brow 
had  fallen  upon  his  shoulder.  But  quickly  she  lifted  it 
and  with  one  wild  look  into  his  face  moaned,  "  No," 
and  pushed  herself  from  him  into  a  rocking-chair. 

The  pocketbook  lay  on  the  floor.  He  would  have 
handed  it  to  her,  but  she  motioned  for  him  to  give  it  to 
her  husband.  Ravenel  drew  from  it  three  bank-notes, 
saying,  as  he  passed  them  to  John — "  Better  engage 
two  berths,  but  buy  only  one  ticket.  Then  we  can 
either " 

March,  busy  with  his  own  pocketbook,  made  a  sign 
that  he  understood.  His  fingers  trembled,  but  when  he 
lifted  his  eyes  from  them  there  was  a  solemn  calm  in  his 
face  and  his  jaws  were  set  like  steel.  He  handed  back 
one  of  the  notes,  and  with  it  something  else  which  was 
neither  coin  nor  currency. 

"  Does  this  mean—     •"  quietly  began  Ravenel. 

"  Yes,"  said  John,  "  I  sell  you  my  ticket.  I  shan't 
leave  town  till  Miss  Fannie's  fit  to  travel." 

"  Why,  John  !  "  For  a  single  instant  the  sick  man 
reddened.  In  the  next  he  had  recovered  his  old  seren 
ity.  "  Why  that's  powerful  kind  of  you." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  March,  with  a  boyish  smile  to  Fan 
nie,  who  was  rising  to  move  to  a  lounge,  "  it's  a  mighty 

old "  He  was  going  to  say  "  debt,"  but  before 

Ravenel  could  more  than  catch  his  breath  or  John 
start  half  a  step  forward  she  had  struck  the  lounge  like 
a  flail. 

March  sprang  to  her,  snatched  up  a  glass  of  water, 
and  seeing  Ravenel's  hand  on  the  bell-pull  at  the  bed's 


RA  VENEL   THINKS  HE  MUST  379 

head  cried,  "  Ring  for  the  maid,  why  don't  you  ?     She's 
fainted  away." 

"  Keep  cool,  old  man,"  said  the  bridegroom,  with  his 
quiet  gaze  on  Fannie.  Her  eyes  opened,  and  he  with 
drew  his  hand. 

At  seven  that  evening  Ravenel,  sitting  in  his  sleeping- 
car  seat,  gave  March  his  hand  for  good-by. 

"  Yes,"  said  John,  "  and  if  the  nurse  I've  got  her 
isn't  tip-top — George  !  I'll  find  one  that  is!  " 

"  I'll  trust  you  for  that,  John." 

But  John  frowned.  "  What  right  have  you  got  to 
trust  me  this  way  at  all  ? " 

"  Because,  old  man,  this  time  you're  in  love  with 
another  girl." 

"  Ko,  sir !  No,  sir  !  "  said  March,  backing  away  as 
the  train  began  to  move.  Don't  you  fool  yourself  with 
that  notion." 

"  I  shan't,"  drawled  the  departing  traveler. 


380  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

LXIII. 

LETTERS    AND    TELEGRAMS 

No  one  ever  undertook  to  argue  anything  with  Rav- 
enel  unless  invited  to  do  so,  and  very  few  ever  got  such 
an  invitation.  Fannie  had  not  intended  to  be  left 
behind.  Out  of  her  new  care  of  him  she  had  made  her 
first  and  last  effort  to  bend  his  will  to  hers,  and  even 
while  she  burned  under  the  grief  and  shame  of  his  treat 
ment  she  would  have  gone  with  him  at  his  beckon 
though  death  threatened  her  at  every  step. 

At  any  rate  so  she  felt  as  she  came  out  of  her  faint 
and  bravely  resumed  her  care  of  him,  retaining  it  even 
when  the  doctor  declared  she  had  a  fever  and  ought  to 
be  in  bed.  But  she  felt  also  that  Jeff-Jack  knew  he 
had  only  to  beckon  ;  and  when  he  did  not  do  so,  either 
by  hand  or  tone,  she  saved  herself  the  idle  torture  of 
asking  him  to  take  a  sick  bride  on  a  journey  from  which 
a  sick  bride  could  not  deter  him. 

Yet  she  made  one  mistake,  when  she  took  at  its  face 
value  the  equal  absence  of  fondness  and  resentment 
with  which  the  bridegroom  had  behaved  throughout. 
It  was  easy  enough  to  read  John  March's  deep  indigna 
tion  under  the  surface  of  his  courteous  silences ;  but 
neither  she  nor  John  guessed  that  the  bridegroom's  only 
reason  for  not  being  vexed  with  both  of  them  was  that 
he  was  not  of  the  sort  to  let  himself  be  vexed.  Each 
had  disappointed  him  seriously  ;  Fannie  by  setting  up 
domestic  love  and  felicity  as  a  purpose  instead  of  an 
appliance,  squandering  her  care  and  strength  in  a  short- 


LETTERS  AND   TELEGRAMS  381 

sighted  devotion  to  his  physical  needs,  and  showing 
herself  unfit  to  co-operate  with  him  in  the  things  for 
which  lie  thought  it  no  great  matter  to  risk  his  life  ; 
and  John  by  failing  so  utterly  to  discern  the  true  situa 
tion  in  Suez  that  the  only  thing  to  do  with  him  was  to 
let  him  alone  until  time  and  hard  luck  might  season 
him  to  better  uses  than  anyone  could  make  of  him  yet. 

If  Ravenel  were  going  to  allow  himself  the  luxury  of 
either  vexation  or  chagrin,  he  had  far  more  profound 
occasion  in  quite  another  person.  Probably  never  be 
fore  in  their  acquaintance  had  he  been  so  displeased 
with  Garnet.  Some  hours  before  he  rose  to  dress  for 
the  train  he  had  filled  out  two  telegraph  blanks.  The 
contents  of  the  first  he  read  to  Fannie  and  with  her 
approval  sent  it  to  her  father  by  wire.  It  read : 

"  Have  been  sick.  Much  better  now.  Fannie  tired 
out,  nursing.  AVants  Johanna,  Send  her  in  care 
Southern  Express  Company.  Ix." 

He  did  not  read  to  her  the  second  missive.  But 
when  he  had  made  it  ready — for  the  mail,  not  the  tele 
graph, — getting  her  to  address  it  in  one  of  her  envelopes 
and  seal  it  with  her  own  new  seal,  he  said,  with  a  pen 
sive  smile  that  made  him  very  handsome,  "  Garnet 
will  think  it's  from  a  woman — till  he  opens  it." 

It  read  as  follows  : 

"  Your  Construction  Company  smells.      Courier  mum 
— but  firm — money   all  got  to  stay  in  Three  Counties, 
no   matter   who's  on   top.      Last  man    one  Yank    too 
many.      Courier  may  have  to  combine  with  Halliday. 
"  Yours  to  count  on,  J.  J." 


382       JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

John  did  not  see  Fannie  that  evening  on  his  return 
from  the  station.  He  only  received  at  second  hand  her 
request  to  call  in  the  morning.  She  had  gone  to  hed 
and  taken  her  medicine,  and  was  resting  quietly,  said 
the  nurse.  But  when  John  asked  if  the  patient  was 
asleep,  the  nurse  confessed  she  hardly  thought  so.  She 
might  have  told  how,  listening  kindly  at  the  patient's 
door,  she  had  heard  her  turn  in  bed  and  moan,  "  Oh, 
God!  why  can't  I  die?"  But  she  had  often  heard 
such  questions  asked  by  persons  with  only  a  headache. 
And  besides,  there  is  always  the  question,  To  icJtom  to 
to  tell  things.  Where  did  this  most  winning  young 
man  stand  ?  The  only  fact  quite  clear  either  to  her,  the 
clerks,  bell-boys  or  chambermaids,  was  that  when  he 
stood  in  front  of  the  bridegroom  he  completely  hid  him 
from  view. 

Though  lost  to  sight,  however,  Fannie  was  still  a 
tender  care  in  the  memory  of  John  March — if  we  may 
adapt  one  of  his  mother's  gracefulest  verses.  He  went 
to  his  hotel  fairly  oppressed  with  the  conviction  that 
for  Fannie's  own  sake  it  was  his  duty  to  drop  a  few 
brief  lines  to  Barbara  Garnet — ahem !  Mr.  March's 
throat  was  absolutely  sound,  but  sometimes,  when  he 
wrasn't  watching,  it  would  clear  itself  that  way.  To 
forestall  any  rumor  that  might  reach  Miss  Garnet  from 
Suez,  it  was  but  right  to  send  her  such  a  truthfully 
garbled  account  of  the  Ravenels  and  himself  that  she 
would  see  at  a  glance  how  perfectly  natural,  proper  and 
insignificant  it  was  for  him  to  be  lingering  in  a  strange 
city  with  a  sick  bride  whom  he  had  once  hoped  to 
marry,  the  bridegroom  being  sick  also  and  several 


LETTERS  AXD   TELEGRAMS  383 

hundred  miles  away.  At  the  same  time  this  would  give 
him  opportunity  to  explain  away  the  still  mortifying 
awkwardness  of  his  hist  parting  with  Miss  Garnet — 
without,  however,  really  alluding  to  it.  No  use  trying 
to  explain  a  thing  of  that  sort  at  all  unless  you  can 
explain  it  without  alluding  to  it. 

He  was  ready,  early  in  the  evening,  to  begin  ;  but 
lost  some  time  trying  to  deeide  whether  to  open  with 
Miss  Garnet,  or  My  Dear  Miss  Garnet,  or  Dear  Miss 
Garnet,  or  My  Dear  Miss  Barbara,  or  My  Dear  Miss 
Barb,  or  Dear  Miss  Barb,  or  just  Dear  Friend  as  you 
would  to  an  ordinary  acquaintance.  lie  tried  every 
furm,  but  each  in  turn  looked  simply  and  dreadfully 
impossible,  and  at  length  he  went  on  with  the  letter, 
leaving  the  terms  of  his  salutation  to  the  inspiration  of 
the  last  moment.  It  was  long  after  midnight  when  he 
finished.  The  night  sky  was  inviting,  and  the  post- 
office  near  by  ;  he  mailed  the  letter  there  instead  of 
trusting  the  hotel.  And  then  he  stood  by  the  mute  slot 
that  had  swallowed  it,  and  because  he  could  not  get  it 
back  for  amendment  called  himself  by  as  large  a  collec 
tion  of  naming  and  freezing  invectives  as  ever  a  South 
ern  gentleman — "  member  in  good  standing  of  any 
Evangelical  church  " — poured  upon  himself  in  the  pri 
vacy  of  his  own  counsels.  He  returned  to  his  hotel,  but 
was  back  again  at  sunrise  smiling  his  best  into  a  hand- 
hole,  requesting  so-and-so  and  so-and-so,  while  he  pen 
cilled  and  submitted  examples  of  his  hand-writing.  To 
which  a  voice  within  replied, 

"  Oh,  yes,  the  watchman ;  but  the  watchman  told 
you  wrong.  I  tell  you  again,  that  mail's  gone." 


384  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

11  How  long  has —  ?  However  ! — Oh,  that's  all 
right,  sir;  I  only  wanted — ahem!"  The  applicant 
moved  away  chewing  his  lip.  What  he  had  "  only 
wanted  "  was  to  change  the  form  of  his  letter's  saluta 
tion.  In  the  street  it  came  to  him  that  by  telegraphing 
the  post-master  at  the  other  end  of  the  route  he  could 
— "  Oh,  thunder !  Let  it  go  !  "  He  had  begun  it, 
"Dear  Miss  Barb." 

And  so  it  went  its  way,  while  he  went  his — on  a  busi 
ness  of  whose  pure  unselfishness  it  is  to  be  feared  he 
was  a  trifle  proud — I  mean,  to  see  how  Mrs.  Ravenel 
was  and  ask  what  more  lie  could  do  for  her.  He  was 
kindly  received  by  a  sweet  little  woman  of  thirty  or  so, 
who  lived  in  a  small  high  room  of  the  hotel,  taught  vocal 
music  in  an  academy,  and  had  nothing  to  do  on  Satur 
days  and  Sundays — this  was  Saturday.  Through  the 
doctor,  who  was  her  doctor,  too,  she  had  found  access  to 
Fannie's  bedside  and  even  into  her  grateful  regard. 
Her  soft,  well-trained  voice  was  of  the  kind  that  rests 
the  sick  and  weary.  The  nurse,  she  said,  was  getting 
a  little  sleep  on  the  lounge  in  Mrs.  Ivavenel's  room. 
"Satisfactory?"  Yes,  admirable  every  way,  and  al 
ready  as  fond  of  Mrs.  Ixavenel  as  she  herself. 

"  Isn't  she  lovely  ? "  she  exclaimed  in  melodious 
undertone,  and  hardly  gave  Mr.  March  time  for  a  very 
dignified  yes.  "When  she  sat  up  in  her  pillows  half 
an  hour  ago,  with  her  breakfast,  so  delicate  and  tempt 
ing,  lying  before  her  forgotten,  and  she  looking  so  frail 
and  yet  so  pretty,  with  that  look  in  her  eyes  as  if  she 
had  been  seeing  ghosts  all  night,  she  seemed  to  me  as 
though  she'd  just  finished  one  life  and  begun  another. 


LETTERS  A^D   TELEGRAMS  385 

How  long  has  she  had  that  look,  Mr.  March?  I 
noticed  it  the  morning  she  arrived,  though  it  wasn't 
anything  like  so  plain  as  it  is  now.  But  it  only  makes 
her  more  interesting  and  poetical.  If  I  were  a  man — 
hinph ! — I'd  wish  I  were  Colonel  Ravenel,  that's  all ! 
No,  I  don't  know  that  I  should,  either  ;  but  if  I  were 
not,  I'm  afraid  I  should  give  him  trouble."  John 
thought  she  watched  him  an  instant  there,  but — 

"Mr.  March,"  she  went  on,  "I  wish  you  could  hear 
the  beautiful,  tender,  winning  way  in  which  she  boasts 
of  her  husband.  She's  as  proud  of  him  for  going  and 
leaving  her  as  she  is  of  you  for  staying !  Fact  is,  I 
can't  tell  which  of  you  she's  proudest  of."  She  gave 
her  listener  a  fascinated  smile,  with  which  he  showed 
himself  at  such  a  loss  to  know  what  to  do  that  she 
liked  him  still  better  than  before. 

"  Mrs.  Ravenel  asked  me  to  tell  you  how  grateful  she 
is.  But  she  also " 

A  bell-boy  interrupted  with  two  telegrams,  both 
addressed  to  Fannie. 

"  She  also  what  ? "  asked  John,  mantling. 

"  Mr.  [March,  do  you  suppose  either  of  these  is  bad 
news  ?  " 

"  Xo,  ma'am,  one's  probably  from  Suez  to  say  the 
black  girl's  coming,  and  the  other's  from  her  husband  ; 
but  if  it  were  not  good  news,  he  was  to  send  it  to  me." 

She  took  the  telegrams  in  and  was  soon  with  him 
again.  "  Oh,  Mr.  March,  they're  just  as  you  said  ! 
Mrs.  Ravenel  says  tell  you  she's  better — which  is  true 
— and  to  thank  you  once  more,  but  to  say  that  she 
can't  any  longer — "  the  little  musician  poured  upon 


386  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

him  her  most  loving  beams — "  let  you  make  the  sacri 
fice  you're " 

John  solemnly  smiled.  "Why,  she  hasn't  been 
letting  me.  She  never  asked  me  to  stay  and  she 
needn't  ask  me  to  go.  I  gave  my  word  to  him,  and  I 
shall  keep  it — to  myself."  His  manner  grew  more 
playful.  "  That's  what  you'd  do,  wouldn't  you,  if  you 
were  a  man  ?  " 

But  at  that  moment  his  hearer  was  not  fancying  her 
self  a  man ;  she  was  only  wishing  she  were  a  younger 
woman.  A  gleam  of  the  wish  may  have  got  into  her 
look  as  she  gave  him  her  hand  at  parting,  for  somehow 
he  began  to  have  a  sort  of  honey-sickness  against  fem 
inine  interests  and  plainly  felt  his  land  company's  busi 
ness  crowding  upon  his  conscience. 


LXIV. 

JUDICIOUS    JOHANNA 

ONE  thing  that  gives  play  for  sentiment  concerning 
a  three  hours'  belated  railway  train  is  the  unapologetic 
majesty  with  which  at  last  it  rolls  into  a  terminal 
station. 

There  had  been  rain-storms  and  freshets  down  in 
Dixie,  and  a  subdued  anxiety  showed  itself  on  Jo 
hanna's  face  as  she  stepped  down  from  the  crowded 
platform ;  but  she  shone  with  glad  astonishment  when 
she  found  John  March  taking  her  forgotten  satchel 


/  UDICIO  US  JO  HA  NNA  387 

from  her  hands  and  her  checks  from  the  express  mes 
senger. 

A  great  many  people  looked  at  them,  once  for  curi 
osity  and  again  for  pleasure ;  for  she  was  almost  as 
flattering  a  representative  of  her  class  as  he  of  his,  and 
in  meeting  each  other  they  seemed  happy  enough  to 
have  been  twins.  The  hotel's  conveyance  was  an  old- 
fashioned  stage-coach,  but  very  new  and  blue.  It 
made  her  dumb  with  delight  to  see  the  owner-like 
serenity  with  which  Mr.  March  passed  her  into  it  and 
by  and  by  out  of  it  into  the  gorgeous  hotel.  But  to 
double  the  dose  of  some  drugs  reverses  their  effect,  and 
her  supper,  served  in  the  ladies'  ordinary  and  by  a 
white  man-servant,  actually  brought  her  to  herself. 
As  she  began  to  eat — blissfully,  for  only  a  yard  or  so 
away  sat  Mr.  March  smilingly  holding  back  a  hundred 
inquiries — she  managed,  herself,  to  ask  a  question  or 
two.  She  grew  pensive  when  told  of  Miss  Fannie's 
sickness  and  of  the  bridegroom's  being  compelled  to  go 
to  Washington,  but  revived  in  reporting  favorably 
upon  the  health  of  Mrs.  March,  whom,  she  said,  she 
had  seen  at  a  fair  given  by  both  the  Suez  churches 
to  raise  money  to  repair  the  graveyard  fence — "on 
account  o'  de  hawgs  breakin'  in  so  awfm." 

"  And  you  say  everybody  was  there,  eh  ? "  indolently 
responded  John,  as  he  resharpened  his  lead-pencil. 
"  Even  including  Professor  Pettigrew  ?  " 

"  No,  seh,  I  observe  he  not  'mongs'  de  comp'ny,  'caze 
yo'  maw's  Jane,  she  call  my  notice  to  dat." 

"  I  wonder  how  my  mother  likes  Jane.  Do  you 
know  ? " 


388  JOHN  MARCH,   SOUTHERNER 

Johanna  showed  a  pretty  embarrassment.  "  Jane  aay 
yo'  maw  like  her.  She  say  yo'  maw  like  her  'caze  she 
always  done  tole  yo'  maw  ev'thing  what  happm  when 
yo'  maw  not  at  home.  Seh  ?  Oh,  no,  seh,"  the  speaker's 
bashfulness  increased,' "'tis  on'y  Jane  say  dat;  same 
time  she  call  my  notice  to  de  absence  o'  Pufesso'  Pedi 
gree — yass,  seh." 

John  gave  himself  a  heartier  manner.  "I  reckon, 
Johanna,  you'd  be  rather  amazed  to  hear  that  I  trav 
eled  nearly  all  the  way  from  Pulaski  City  with  yo' 
young  missie  and  stayed  at  the  same  hotel  here  with 
her  and  her  friends  a  whole  Saturday  and  Sunday, 
wouldn't  you  ?  " 

Johanna's  modest  smile  glittered  across  her  face  as 
she  slowly  replied,  "  No-o,  seh,  I  cayn't  'zac'ly  fine  my- 
seff  ama-aze',  'caze  Miss  Barb  done  wrote  about  it  in  her 
letteh." 

"  Psheh  !  "  said  John,  playing  incredulous,  "  you  ain't 
got  air  letter  from  Miss  Barb." 

The  girl  was  flattered  to  ecstasy.  "  Yass,  seh,  I  is," 
she  said  ;  but  her  soft  laugh  meant  also  that  something 
in  the  way  he  faltered  on  the  dear  nickname  made  her 
heart  leap. 

"Now,  Johanna,"  murmured  John,  looking  more 
roguishly  than  he  knew  from  under  his  long  lashes, 
"  you'  a-foolin'  me.  If  you  had  a  letter  you'd  be  mon- 
st'ous  proud  to  show  it.  All  you've  got  is  a  line  or  two 
saying,  'Send  me  my  shawl,'  or  something  o'  that  sort. " 

Johanna  glanced  up  with  injured  surprise  and  then 
tittered,  "Miss  Barb  wear  a  shawl — fo'  de  Lawd's 
sa-ake!  Why,  Mr.  March,  evm  you  knows  betteh'n 


JUD1C10  US  JOHANNA  389 

dat,  set."  Her  glow  of  happiness  stayed  while  she  drew 
forth  a  letter  and  laid  it  by  her  cup  of  coffee. 

"  Oh  !  "  —  the  sceptic  tossed  his  head  —  "  seein's  believ- 
in'  ;  but  I  can't  see  so  far  off." 

Johanna  could  hardly  speak  for  grinning.  "Dass 
heh  letteh,  seh,  writ  de  ve'y  same  night  what  she  tell 
you  good-by." 

"  She  wrote  it  "  —  John's  heart  came  into  his  mouth  — 
"that  same  night?" 

"  Dass  what  it  saay,  seh.  D'ain't  nothin'  so  ve'y 
private  in  it  ;  ef  yo'  anteress  encline  you  to  read  it, 


"  Thank  you,"  said  the  convert  as  his  long  arm  took 
the  prize. 

There  were  three  full  sheets  of  it.  He  found  him 
self  mentioned  again  and  again,  but  covertly  drew  his 
breath  through  his  clenched  teeth  to  see  how  necessary 
he  had  made  himself  to  every  page  of  her  narrative 
and  how  utterly  he  was  left  out  when  not  so  needed. 
"  She'll  not  get  the  same  chance  again,"  he  thought  as 
he  finished. 

"  Johanna,  have  you  —  never  mind,  I  was  -  "  And 
he  began  to  read  it  again. 

Sitting  thus  absorbed,  he  was  to  the  meek-minded 
girl  before  him  as  strong  and  fine  a  masculine  nature 
as  she  -had  ever  knowingly  come  near.  But  his  intel 
ligence  was  only  masculine  at  last  —  a  young  man's 
intelligence.  She  kept  her  eyes  in  her  plate;  yet  she 
had  no  trouble  to  see,  perfectly,  that  her  confidence  was 
not  ill-advised  —  a  confidence  that  between  the  letter's 
lines  he  would  totally  fail  to  read  what  she  had  read. 


390  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

One  thing  was  disappointing.  As  often  as  read  to 
her,  the  letter  had  seemed  to  sparkle  and  overflow  with 
sweet  humor  and  exquisite  wit  to  that  degree  that  she 
had  to  smother  her  laughter  from  beginning  to  end. 
Mr.  March  was  finishing  it  a  second  time  and  had  not 
smiled.  Twice  or  thrice  he  had  almost  frowned.  Yet 
as  he  pushed  its  open  pages  across  the  table  he  said  ever 
so  pleasantly, 

"^That's  a  mighty  nice  letter,  Johanna ;  who's  going 
to  answrer  it  for  you  ?  " 

"Hit  done  answ'ed,  seh.  I  aiis'  it  same  night  it 
come.  My  fatheh  writ  de  answeh ;  yass,  seh,  Unc' 
Leviticus." 

"Oh,  yes.  Well,  you  couldn't  'a'  chosen  better — 
Oh  !  Miss  Barb  says  here  " — Mr.  March  gathered  up 
the  sheets  again — 'write  me  all  you  hear  about  the 
land  company.'  That's  just  so's  to  know  how  her 
father  gets  on,  I  reckon,  ain't  it  ?  "  He  became  so 
occupied  with  the  letter  that  the  girl  did  not  have  to 
reply.  He  was  again  reading  it  through.  This  time 
he  repeatedly  smiled,  and  as  he  folded  it  and  gave  it 
up  he  said  once  more, 

"  Yes,  it's  a  nice  letter.  Does  Miss  Barb  know  where 
to  mail  the  next  one  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  ain't  had  no  chaynce  to  sen'  her  word,  seh." 

"  Why,  that's  a  pity  !  You  ought  to  do  that  at  once, 
Johanna,  and  let  her  know  you've  got  here  safe  and 
well — jf  Only  for  her  sake !  I'll  do  it  for  you  to-night, 
if  you'd  like  me  to." 

Johanna  thankfully  assented. 

Mr.  March  did  not  ponder,  this  time,  as  to  wrhat  the 


THE  ENEMY  IN  THE  REAR  391 

opening  phrase  of  the  letter  should  be ;  and  as  he 
sealed  the  "  hurried  note  "  he  did  so  with  the  air  of  a 
man  who  is  confident  he  has  made  no  mistake.  It 
began, "  Dear  Miss  Barb." 


LXV. 

THE    ENEMY    IN    THE    BEAR 

A  NEW  week  came  in  with  animating  spring  weather. 
On  Monday  Fannie  sat  up,  and  on  Tuesday,  when  John 
called,  her  own  smile  surprised  him  at  the  door,  while 
Johanna's  reflected  it  in  the  background. 

He  felt  himself  taken  at  a  disadvantage.  His  un 
ready  replies  to  her  lively  promptings  turned  aimlessly 
here  and  there ;  his  thoughts  could  neither  lead  nor 
follow  them.  The  wine  of  her  pretty  dissembling  went 
to  his  head ;  while  the  signs  of  chastening  in  her  fair 
face  joined  strangely  with  her  sprightliness  in  an 
obscure  pathetic  harmony  that  moved  his  heartstrings 
as  he  had  felt  youthfully  sure  they  were  never  to 
be  moved  again.  His  late  anger  against  Ravenel 
came  back,  and  with  it,  to  his  surprise,  the  old  ten 
derness  for  her,  warmed  by  the  anger  and  without 
the  bitterness  of  its  old  chagrin.  He  found  himself 
reminded  of  his  letters  to  Johanna's  distant  mistress, 
but  instantly  decided  that  the  two  matters  had  nothing 
to  do  with  each  other,  and  gave  himself  rich  comfort  in 
this  visible  and  only  half  specious  fulfilment  of  his 


392  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

youth's  long  dream.  The  daily  protection  and  care  of 
this  girl,  her  welcome,  winsome  gayeties  and  thanks, 
were  his,  his !  with  no  one  near  to  claim  a  division  of 
shares  and  only  honor  to  keep  account  with.  Hii 
words  were  stumbling  over  these  unconfessed  distrac 
tions  when  she  startled  him  by  saying, 

"  I've  telegraphed  Jeff-Jack  that  I  can  travel." 

His  response  was  half-resentful.  "  Did  the  doctor 
say  you  might  ?  " 

She  gave  her  tone  a  shade  of  mimicry.  "Yes,  sir, 
the  doctor  said  I  might."  But  she  changed  it  to  add, 
"  You'll  soon  be  free,  John  ;  it's  a  matter  of  only  two  or 
three  hours."  Her  playfulness  faded  into  a  smile  of 
gratefulest  affection.  Johanna,  who  was  passing  into 
the  next  room,  could  not  see  it,  but  she  easily  guessed 
it  by  the  slight  disconcertion  which  showed  through  the 
smile  he  gave  back. 

He  dropped  his  eyes  pensively.  "To  be  free  isn't 
everything." 

"  It  is  for  you  just  now,  John,  mighty  nearly. 
You've  got  a  great  work  before  you,  and— 

"  Oh,  yes,  so  I've  heard."  He  laughed  apologetically 
and  rose  to  go. 

"You  don't  need  to  be  reminded  as  badly  as  you 
used  to,"  said  Fannie,  retaining  his  hand  and  looking 
into  his  face  with  open  admiration.  "  You'll  start  East 
to-day,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  That  depends." 

"Kow,  John,  it  doesn't  do  any  such  thing.  It 
mustn't ! " 

"I'll   let   you  know  later,"   said   John,  freeing   his 


THE  ENEMY  IN  THE  REAR  393 

grasp.  The  pressure  of  her  little  hand  had  got  into  his 
pulse.  He  hurried  away. 

"  She's  right,"  he  pondered,  as  he  walked  down  the 
populous  street,  beset  by  a  vague  discomfort,  "  it 
mustn't  depend.  Besides,  she's  pretty  sure  not  to  stay 
here.  It  wouldn't  be  Jeff-Jack's  way  to  come  back ; 
he'll  wire  to  her  to  come  to  him  at  once.  Reckon  I'll 
decide  now  to  go  on  that  Washington  express  this  even 
ing.  I  can't  afford  to  let  my  movements  depend  on 
F-Fannie's — hem  !  Heaven  knows  I've  taxed  the  com 
pany's  patience  enough  already." 

He  told  the  regretful  clerks  at  his  hotel  that  this  was 
his  farewell  day  with  them,  and  tried  to  feel  that  he 
had  thus  burned  the  last  bridge  between  himself  and 
indiscretion.  He  only  succeeded  in  feeling  as  you  and 
I — and  Garnet — used  to  feel  when  wTe  had  told  our 
purpose  to  others  and  fibbed  to  ourselves  about  the 
motive.  But  Garnet  had  got  far  beyond  that,  under 
stand. 

So  Yice-President  March  went  to  the  day's  activities 
paying  parting  calls  from  one  private  office  to  another 
in  the  interest  of  Widewood's  industrial  colonization. 
He  bought  his  railroad  ticket — returnable  in  case  any 
unforeseen 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,  President  March :  yes,  sir ; 
good-day,  sir." 

At  his  hotel  shortly  after  noon  he  found  a  note.  He 
guessed  at  its  contents.  "  She  takes  the  same  train  I 
do."  He  forced  himself  to  frown  at  the  amusing  yet 
agreeable  accident.  But  his  guess  was  faulty  ;  the  note 
read: 


394  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

"  I  return  immediately  to  Suez,  where  JefF-Jack  will 
arrive  by  the  end  of  the  week." 

And  thereupon  John  had  another  feeling  known  to  us 
all — the  dull  shame  with  which  we  find  that  fate  has  de 
frauded  us  for  our  own  good.  However,  he  hurried  to 
Fannie  and  put  himself  into  her  service  with  a  gay  im- 
periousness  delightful  to  both  and  apparently  amusing 
to  the  busy  Johanna.  By  and  by  the  music-teacher 
helped  also,  making  Fannie  keep  her  rocking-chair,  and, 
as  Mr.  March  came  and  went,  dropped  little  melodious, 
regretful  things  to  him  privately  about  his  own  depart 
ure.  Once  she  said  that  nothing  gave  her  so  much  hap 
piness  as  answering  pleasant  letters;  but  John  only 
wondered  why  women  so  often  talk  obviously  without 
any  aim  whatever ! 

"  Well,"  at  length  he  said  to  Fannie,  "  I'll  go  now 
and  get  myself  oif.  Your  train  starts  from  the  same 
station  mine  does ;  I'll  say  good-by  there." 

He  packed  his  valise  and  hand-bag,  and  had  given 
them  to  the  porter,  when  he  received  a  letter. 

"  My  George !  "  was  his  dismayed  whisper  to  himself, 
"  a  duelist  couldn't  be  prompter."  He  walked  to  the 
door,  gazing  at  the  superscription.  "It  feels  like  my 
letter  sent  back.  Ah,  well !  that's  just  what  it  ought  to 
be.  Confound  the  women,  all ;  I  wonder  how  it  feels 
for  a  man  just  to  mind  his  own  business  and  let  them  " 
— he  rent  the  envelope — "  mind — theirs  !  " 

He  read  the  missive  as  he  rode  to  the  station.  It 
wasn't  very  long,  and  it  did  seem  to  him  a  bit  too 
formal ;  and  yet  it  was  so  gravely  sweet  that  he  had  to 
smooth  the  happiness  off  his  face  repeatedly,  and  finally 


THE  ENEMY  IN  THE  REAR  395 

stole  a  private  laugh  behind  the  hand  that  twisted  his 
small  mustache,  as  he  fondly  sighed. 

"Doggone  your  considerate  little  soul,  you're  just  a 
hundred  ton  nicer  and  better  than  your  father  or  any 
body  else  is  ever  going  to  deserve  !  "  But  he  read  on  : 

"  For  you  remember,  do  you  not  ?  that  I  was  free  to 
speak  of  yours  and  papa's  ambitions  and  plans  for  Wide- 
wood  ?  And  so  I  enclose  a  page  or  two  of  a  letter  just 
received  from  our  Johanna  at  home,  because  it  states 
things  about  Colonel  Proudfit's  new  construction  com 
pany  which  Cornelius  seems  to  have  told  your  mother's 
black  girl,  Jane.  They  may  be  pure  inventions ;  but 
if  so,  they  must  be  his,  not  hers,  although  I  should 
never  have  thought  he  would  be  so  reckless  as  to  tell 
such  things  to  such  a  person "  Etc. 

John  unfolded  the  fragments  of  Johanna's  letter  with 
a  condescending  smile  which  began  to  fade  before  he 
had  read  five  lines.  A  chill  ran  down  his  back,  and 
then  an  angry  flush  mounted  to  his  brow. 

There  is  a  kind  of  man — Mr.  Leggett  was  such  a  one, 
Samson  was  another — who  will  tell  his  own  most  valuable 
or  dangerous  secrets  to  any  woman  on  whose  conquest 
he  is  bent,  if  she  only  knows  how  to  bid  for  them. 
And  there  are  "  Delijahs  "  who  will  break  any  confi 
dence  and  risk  any  fortune,  nay,  their  own  lives,  to 
show  a  rival  she  has  been  eclipsed.  There  are  also 
women,  even  girls,  who  are  of  such  pure  eyes  they  can 
not  discern  obliquity  anywhere.  And  there  are  others 
just  as  pure — the  lily's  own  heart  isn't  purer — who, 
nevertheless — but  why  waste  time  or  type.  In  short, 
Johanna  first,  and  then  Barbara,  had  seen  how  easily 


3%  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

Daphne  Jane's  tittle-tattle  might  be  serious  news  to  John 
March ;  which  it  certainly  was  if  the  dark  cloud  on 
his  face  was  a  true  sign. 

He  found  Fannie  on  her  train  and  well  cared  for  by 
Johanna  and  the  music-teacher.  In  the  silence  which 
promptly  followed  his  greeting,  these  two  moved  aside 
and  Fannie  murmured  eagerly, 

"  What  on  earth's  the  matter  ? — Yes,  there  is,  John  ; 
something's  wrong ;  what  is  it  ?  I  saw  you  slip  a  letter 
into  your  pocket  at  the  door.  What  does  it  mean  ?  " 

"Why,  Fannie — it  means  I've  got  to  go  straight  back 
to  Suez." 

She  made  a  rapturous  gesture.  "  And  you're  going 
on  this  train  ?  "  she  whispered. 

"No." 

"  Xow,  why  not  ?  John,  you're  foolish  !  —  or  else 
you  think  I  am.  You  mustn't !  You  must  go  on  this 
train.  John,  I — I  want  you  to."  She  smiled  up  at  his 
troubled  gaze. 

"Johanna,"  he  said,  and  beckoned  the  maid  a  step 
aside.  "  Miss  Barb  has  sent  me  that  part  of  your  letter 
to  her  that  tells  about  the  construction  company." 

"Yaas,  seh,"  murmured  Johanna.  Her  heart 
throbbed. 

"  You  say,  there,  that  Cornelius  says  its  officers  are 
mere  tools  in  the  power  of  men  who  have  put  them 
there ;  that  Gamble's  behind  Crickwater,  Bulger's  be 
hind  Mattox,  and  he,  Leggett,  is  behind  Pettigrew — yes 
— don't  interrupt,  there  isn't  time — and  that  Colonel 
Proudfit  got  the  money  to  buy  stock  enough  to  elect 
himself  president,  by  persuading  his  wife  to  mortgage 


HOT  WORDS,  COOL  FRIENDS  397 

everything  she  has  got.     Yes ;  but  you  don't  tell  who 
Cornelius  says  is  behind  Colonel  Proudfit.     Didn't  he 


"  Please,  seh,  Mr.  March,  ef  Majo' " 

"  That's  all,  Johanna,  I'm  much  obliged  to  you.  It 
may  be,  you  know,  that  there  isn't  a  word  of  truth  in 
the  whole  thing  ;  but  in  any  case  you'll  never — No, 
that's  right."  He  turned  to  Fannie.  "  I  must  change 
my  ticket  and  ch£ck ;  I'm  going  with  you." 


LXVI. 

WARM     HEARTS,    HOT    WORDS,    COOL    FRIENDS 

ABOUT  that  same  hour  the  next  day  John  stepped  off 
the  train  at  Suez  and  turned  to  let  Fannie  down ;  but  a 
pair  of  uplifted  arms  came  between  the  two,  and 
Launcelot  Halliday,  with  the  back  of  his  velvet  coat 
close  to  the  young  man's  face,  said,  "I'll  take  care  of 
my  daughter,  John  ;  you  can  look  after  any  business  of 
your  own  that  may  need  you." 

"  Why,  Pop  !  "  exclaimed  Fannie.  The  color  flushed 
up  to  her  brows.  John  gazed  at  him  in  haughty  silence. 

"  Come  on,  Johanna,"  said  the  old  General,  heartily. 
"  Good-by,  John.  When  can  I  see  you  in  your  office  ?  " 

"  Whenever  I'm  there,  and  not  too  busy !  "  replied 
March  as  he  strode  away. 

"We'll  go  to  the  old  house  for  to-night,  Johanna," 


398  JOHN  MA  R  CSS,  SO  U  THERNER 

said  Fannie,  and  did  not  speak  again  until  she  began  to 
draw  off  her  gloves  in  her  father's  parlor.  Her  face 
was  white,  her  dark  eyes  wide  ;  but  her  voice  was  slow 
and  kind. 

"  Yes,  Johanna,  go  along  to  my  room.  I'll  be  there 
directly."  She  shut  the  door  and  folded  her  gloves, 
smiling  like  a  swordsman  rolling  up  his  sleeves. 

"Pop,  I've  owed  you  a-many  an  explanation  that  I've 
never  paid.  You  never  owed  me  one  in  your  life  till 
now  ;  but  " — her  eyes  flashed — "  you  owe  it  this  time  to 
the  roots  of  your  hair." 

"  Fan,  that's  a  mighty  poor  beginning  for  the  expla 
nation  I  expect  from  you." 

His  tone  was  one  of  forbearance,  but  before  he  could 
finish  she  was  as  red  as  a  flower.  "  I  belong  to  my 
husband  !  When  I've  anything  to  explain  I'll  explain 
to  him." 

"  Fannie  Halliday— 

"  Kavenel,  if  you  please,  sir." 

He  smiled  severely.  "  Have  a  chair,  Mrs.  Ravenel. 
Fan,  you're  married  to  a  man  who  never  asks  an 
explanation." 

The  twro  gazed  upon  each  other  in  silence.  His  ac 
customed  belief  in  her  and  her  ardent  love  for  him 
were  already  stealing  back  into  their  hearts.  Neverthe 
less 

"  O,  sir !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  tell  me  something  I  don't 
know !  Yes !  But  I'm  married  to  a  man  who  waits 
for  things  to  explain  themselves." 

"  Or  till  they're  past  all  explanation,  Fan." 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  yes  !    But  more  !     I'm  married  to  a  man 


HOT  WORDS,  COOL  FRIENDS  390 

who  knows  that  nothing  can  explain  conduct  but  con 
duct.  That's  the  kind  of  explanation  you  still  owe  me, 
Pop,  till  you  pay  it  to  John  March." 

"  Well,  then,"  he  replied  with  new  warmth,  "  I'll  owe 
it  a  long  time.  If  he  ever  again  shows  his  carelessness 
of  conventional " 

Fannie  laid  a  pale  hand  on  her  father's  arm.  "  It 
wasn't  his.  He  showed  carefulness  enough  ;  I  overruled 
it.  It  was  his  duty  to  come,  Pop  ;  and  I  had  let  him 
neglect  duty  for  me  long  enough." 

The  General  started.  "  Why,  Fan."  But  when  he 
looked  into  her  sad  eyes  his  soul  melted.  She  smiled 
with  her  face  close  to  his. 

"  Pop,  you  never  meddled  in  my  affairs  before.  Don't 
you  reckon  I'll  manage  this  one  all  right." 

"  Why,  yes,  Fan.  I  was  only  anxious  about  you  be 
cause " 

"  Never  mind  your  becauses,  dear.  Just  say  you'll 
make  it  all  right  with  John." 

"  Go  to  bed,  Fannie  ;  go  to  bed  ;  John  and  I  will  take 
care  of  ourselves." 

When  the  General  reached  his  office  the  next  day  the 
forenoon  was  well  advanced.  He  wras  still  there  when 
at  midday  John  March  entered. 

"  John,  howdy  ?     Have  a  chair." 

"  Thank  you,  sir."  But  the  young  man  continued  to 
stand. 

"  Oh,  take  a  seat,  John  ;  you  can  get  up  again  if  what 
I  say  doesn't  suit  you." 

The  speaker  came  from  his  desk,  took  a  chair  and 
pushed  another  to  his  visitor. 


400  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

"  John,  I  had  a  short  talk  with  Fannie  last  night,  and 
a  long  one  again  this  morning.  If  my  manner  to  you 
last  evening  impugned  your  motives,  I  owe  you  an 
apology." 

"  That's  all  I  want  to  hear,  General,"  said  John,  ac 
cepting  the  old  soldier's  hand. 

"  Yes,  my  boy ;  but  it's  not  all  I  want  to  say.  Fan 
nie  tells  me  you've  been  taking  some  business  risks,  so 
to  speak,  for  her  sake."  John  scowled.  "  Now,  John, 
when  she  asked  yoM  to  come  home  on  her  train  she  knew 
that  wras  to  her  a  social  risk,  and  she  took  it  for  your 
sake  in  return.  Not  improper  ?  I  don't  say  it  was.  It 
was  worse  than  improper,  John  ;  it  was  romantic  !  The 
gay  half  of  Suez  will  never  forget  it,  and  the  grim  half 
will  never  forgive  it !  Oh,  it  was  quite  proper  and 
praiseworthy  if  Pussie  and  Susie  would  just  not  miscon 
strue  it,  as  they  certainly  will.  Only  a  fewr  months  ago, 
you  know,  you  were  making  it  almost  public  that  you 
would  still  maintain  your  highly  poetical  line  of  con 
duct  and  sentiment  toward  Fan  after  she  should  be 
married." 

"General  Halliday,  I " 

"  Let  me  finish,  John.  We  didn't  run  you  out  of  toy,-- , 
did  we  ? " 

March  smiled  a  strong  sarcasm  and  shook  his  head. 
The  General  went  on. 

"  No,  sir,  we  took  you  good-naturedly  and  trusted 
to  your  sober  second  thought.  Well,  Fan's  scarcely  ten 
days  married,  Jeff-Jack's  a  thousand  miles  away,  and 
here  you  come  full  of  good  intentions,  hell's  pavement, 
you  know-~-0  John,  the  more  I  think  of  it  the  more 


HOT  WORDS,   COOL  FRIENDS  401 

amazed  I  am  at  all  three  of  you.  I  don't  blame  Jeff- 
Jack  for  leaving  Fan  as  lie  did " 

"  '  As  he  did ' !  By  George !  General  Halliday,  that's 
all  I  do  blame  him  for  !  " 

"  Why,  do  you  mean — But  never  mind ;  that's 
probably  none  of  my  business ;  I  don't  see  how  you 
could  ever  think  it  was  any  of  yours.  Oh,  now,  please 
keep  your  seat !  No,  at  least,  I  don't  blame  him  merely 
for  leaving  her ;  a  politician's  a  soldier ;  he  can't  stop 
to  comfort  the  sick.  But  he  should  have  declined  your 
offer  to  stay  with  her,  in  italics,  John,  and  sent  for  me !  " 

"  Sent  for — Oh,  imagine  him  !  Besides,  General  Hal 
liday,  Jeff- Jack  knew  my  offer  was  to  myself;  not  to 
him  at  all,  sir !  But  he  saw  another  thing — about  me 
— as  plainly  as  I  did  ;  yes,  plainer  !  " 

"  I  could  do  that  myself,  John.  What  was  it — this 
time?" 

"  He  saw  my  sober  second  thought  had  come !  " 

"  H— ,  I  wish  I  had  his  eyes !  Did  he  say  so  ?  Wha'd 
he  say  ?  " 

"  He  said  what  wasn't  true." 

The  old  warrior  smiled  satirically.     "  What  was  it?  " 

"  'Ever  mind  what  it  was !     I'm  talked  out." 

"  My  dear  fellow,  so  am  I !  John,  honestly,  I  thank 
you  for  the — pardon  me — the  unusual  patience  with 
which  you've  taken  my  hard  words."  The  speaker 
gripped  his  hearer's  knee.  "And  you  really  think 
you've  finished  your  first  great  campaign  of  mistakes — 
eh  ? " 

"  Yes !  "  They  rose,  laughing.  "  Yes,  and  I've  every 
reason  to  hope  it's  my  last."  The  General  proposed 


402  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

drinks,  but  John  hadn't  time,  and  they  only  swapped 
cigars. 

"  I  hear  you  leave  us  again  this  evening,"  said  the 
General. 

"  No  ;  they'd  like  me  to  go,  but  I'm — I'm  very  tired 
and  anyhow " 

"You're  wha-at?  Tired!  Why,  John— O  no,  you 
don't  mean  tired,  you  mean  insa-ane !  Why,  sir,  that's 
going  straight  back  on  everything  you've  been  saying ! 
John,  we're  not  going  to  stand  this."  The  General  grew 
red. 

"Whom  do  you  mean  by  'we,'  General?"  Both 
men  were  forgetting  to  smoke. 

"  Everybody,  sir !  everybody  in  Suez  with  whom  you 
have  any  relations?  Why,  look  at  it  yourself!  For  a 
week  running  you  neglect  your  own  interests  and  your 
company's  business  to  do — what  ?  Just  what  you'd  do 
if  you  were  still  under  an  infatuation  which  you've 
openly  confessed  for  years  !  " 

"  But  which,  General  Halliday,  I  tell  you  again " 

"  Telling  won't  do,  sir,  when  doing  tells  another  story. 
Here  are  your  directors  astonished  and  vexed  at  you  for 
coming  back  with  not  a  word  as  to  why  you've  come. 
O,  how  do  I  know  it  ?  It's  the  talk  o'  the  town  !  They 
bid  you  go  back  to  the  field  of  work  you  chose  yourself, 
and  you  tell  them — business  men — financiers — that 

you're  'tired  and  anyhow '  By  Jupiter!  John 

March " 

"  General,  stop !  I'll  manage  my  own  business  my 
own  way,  sir !  It's  no  choice  of  mine  to  speak  so  to  you, 
General  Halliday,  but  I  swear  I'll  not  widen  my  confi- 


HOT  WORDS,  COOL  FRIENDS  403 

deuces — no,  nor  modify  my  comings  and  goings — to 
provide  against  the  looks  of  things.  It's  the  culpable 
who  are  careful,  sir." 

"  Yes — yes — and  '  the  simple  pass  on  and  are  pun 
ished.'  I  don't  ask  you  to  widen  your  confidences  to 
include  me,  John." 

"Shan't  widen  them  to  include  anyone,  under  press 
ure,  General.  But  it's  a  pity  when  you  know  so  much 
about  these  things,  you  don't  know  more." 

"  I  do,  John.  I  know  that  when  Jeff- Jack  left  here 
he  left  his  proxy — at  your  solicitation — with  John  Wes 
ley  Garnet !  " 

"Which,  he  gave  me  to  understand,  was  just  what  he 
intended  to  do,  anyhow." 

"O,  gave  you  to  understand,  of  course!  But  it 
wasn't,  John.  Jeff-Jack's  still  got  too  many  uses  for 
Garnet,  to  cross  him  without  a  good  excuse.  But  he 
knows  what  Gamble's  influence  is,  and  a  different  request 
from  you  would  have  put  his  proxy  in  safer  hands. 
He  would  have  saved  you,  John,  if  you  hadn't  yourself 
rushed  in  and  spoken  for  Garnet." 

"  And  why  should  you  assume  that  Garnet's  holding 
the  proxy  has  made " 

"  Oh,  bah  !  Why,  John,  d'ye  reckon  I  don't  see  that 
he  and  Bulger  have  gone  over  to  Gamble,  and  are  out 
voting  you — hauling  you  in  hand  over  fist  ?  It's  written 
in  large  letters  and  hung  up  where  all  Susie  can  read 
it — except  yourself!  " 

"Where?" 

"  In  your  face.  And  now  you're  staying  here  to  stare 
at  a  lost  game.  0,  John,  for  your  own  sake,  get  away ! 


404  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

Clear  out  to-night !  You  can  at  least  hide  your  help 
lessness.  If  you  will,  I'll  call  you  back  as  soon  as  you 
can  gain  anything  by  coming.  Yes,  and  I'll  turn  in 
and  fight  these  fellows  for  you  in  the  meantime !  " 

"  Thank  you,  General,  but  you're  mistaken ;  the 
game  isn't  lost.  The  moment  Jeff- Jack  and  I— 

"Ah!  John,  the  moment's  gone!  Ask  yourself! 
Will  Jeff- Jack  ever  join  the  forlorn  Lope  of  a  man  who 
won't  dance  to  his  fiddle?  His  self-sacrifices  are  not 
that  sort." 

"  And  yet  that's  the  very  sacrifice  you  think  I  ought 
to  let  you  make  for  me  !  " 

"  By  Joe !  sir,  it  wouldn't  be  a  sacrifice !  If  it  will 
just  get  you  out  of  town  it  will  suit  me  perfectly !  " 

"  Then,  sir,  you'll  not  be  suited  !  I'm  going  to  stay 
here  and  see  what  my  enemies  are  up  to ;  and  if  they're 
up  to  what  I  think  they  are,  I'll  break  their  backs  if  I 
have  to  do  it  single-handed  and  alone !  Good-day,  sir." 

"Good-day,  John;  that's  the  way  you'll  have  to  do 
it,  sir." 

"Devil  take  him,"  added  the  General  as  he  found 
himself  alone,  "  he's  crossed  the  bar.  It's  his  heart 
that's  safe.  O,  Fan,  my  poor  child !  " 


A  PROBLEM  405 


LXVII. 

PEOBLEM  :    IS    AN   UNCONFIRMED    DISTRUST   NECES 
SARILY    A    DEAD    ASSET? 

JOHN  went  away  heavy  and  bitter.  Yet  he  remem 
bered,  this  time,  to  take  more  care  of  his  facial  expres 
sion.  He  met  Shotwell  and  Proudfit  coming  out  of  the 
best  saloon.  They  stopped  him,  complimented  his 
clothes  and  his  legs,  asked  a  question  or  two  of  genuine 
interest,  poked  him  in  the  waistband,  and  regretted  not 
meeting  him  sooner.  Proudfit  suggested,  with  the 
proper  anathema,  to  go  back  and  take  a  re-invigorator 
with  Vice-President  March.  But  the  pleasant  Shotwell 
said: 

"You  forget,  Colonel,  that  ow  a-able  young  friend 
belongs  to  Gideon's  ba-and,  now,  seh." 

Proudfit  made  a  vague  gesture  of  acknowledgment. 
"  And  anyhow  " — his  tongue  thickened  and  his  head 
waggled  playfully — "anyhow,  Shot,  a  ladies'  man's  just 
(jot  to  keep  his  breath  sweet,  ain't  he?  " 

Shotwell  looked  as  though  the  rolling  earth  had  struck 
something.  March  paled,  but  he  took  the  Captain's 
cigar  to  light  his  own  as  he  remarked : 

"  I  don't  get  the  meaning  of  that  expression  as  clear 
as  I  wish  you'd  make  it,  Colonel." 

Shotwell  pretended  to  burst  with  merriment.  "  Why, 
neither  does  the  Colonel !  That  was  only  a  sort  o'  glit 
tering  generality  to  hide  his  emba'assment — haw,  haw, 
haw !  " 


406  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

Proudfit  smiled  modestly.  "  Shot,  you're  right  again ! 
He's  right  again,  John.  It  was  only  one  o'  my  grittlin' 
gen — my  grilterin'  geren — aw!  Shot,  hush  yo'  fuss! 
you  confu-use  me !  " 

John  was  laughing  before  he  knew  it.  "  Gentlemen, 
I've  got  to  get  along  home.  I  slept  at  Tom  Hersey's 
hotel  last  night,  and  haven't  seen  my  mother  yet.  O — 
eh — Captain — 

Shotwell  left  Proudfit  and  walked  away  with  March. 
Persons  rarely  asked  advice  of  the  ever-amiable  Cap 
tain;  they  went  by  him  to  Charley  Champion,  whom 
he  reverenced  as  well  as  loved.  And  so  he  was  thor 
oughly  pleased  when  John  actually  let  Champion  pass 
them  and  asked  him,  in  confidence,  what  he  thought  of 
Proudfit's  construction  company. 

"  Well,  of  co'se,  John,  you  know  how  fah  Proudfit  is 
fum  being  an  a-able  man  ;  and  so  docs  he.  lie's  evm 
fool  enough  to  think  he  can  sharpen  his  wits  with  whis 
key,  which  you  know,  March,  that  if  that  was  so  I'd 
myself  be  as  sharp  as  a  ra-azor.  But  /  don't  suspicion 
but  what  everything's  clean  and  square — Oh,  I  wouldn't 
swear  nobody  does  ;  you  know,  yo'self,  what  double- 
ba'lled  fools  some  men  ah.  I  reckon  just  about  every 
body  likes  the  arrangement,  though ;  faw  whetheh  one 
company  aw  the  otheh,  aw  both,  make  money,  the 
money  sta-ays.  Yes,  of  co'se,  we  know  he  owes  it  to  Gar 
net's  influence,  but  I  suspicion  Garnet  done  as  he  did 
mo'  to  gratify  Miz  Proudfit's  ambitions  than  fum  any 
notion  o'  they  being  big  money  in  it  faw  anybody  ;  you 
know  how  fawnd  Garnet's  always  been  of  both  of  'em, 
you  know.  Oh,  no,  whateveh  the  thing  is,  it's  square ! 


A  PROBLEM  407 

You  might  know  that  by  Pettigrew  bein'  its  seccata'y  ; 
faw  to  eli  is  human — which  Pettigrew  ain't." 

John  mounted  a  horse  and  started  for  Widewood. 
He  had  to  stop  and  shake  hands  with  Parson  Tombs 
over  his  front  palings,  and  make  an  honest  effort  to  feel 
annoyed  by  the  old  man's  laughter-laden  compliments 
on  his  energy,  enterprise,  and  perspicacity.  At  the 
Halliday  cottage  he  saw  Fannie  clipping  roses  from  the 
porch  trellis  for  Martha  Salter,  who  stood  by.  She 
waved  her  hand. 

"  John  March,  I  do  believe  you  were  going  to  gallop 
right  a-past  us  without  stopping !  "  said  Fannie,  as  he 
tardily  wheeled  and  rode  slowly  up  to  the  low  gate. 

He  answered  awkwardly,  and  when  she  gave  him  a 
rose,  looked  across  at  Miss  Salter,  whose  gravity  in 
creased  his  discomfort.  A  dash  up  the  slope  beyond  the 
Academy  was  a  partial  relief  only  while  it  lasted,  and 
at  the  top,  where  his  horse  dropped  into  a  trot,  he  lifted 
the  flower  as  if  to  toss  it  over  the  hedge,  but  faltered, 
bent  forward,  and  stuck  it  into  the  animal's  head-stall. 
As  he  straightened  up  he  found  himself  in  the  company 
of  a  tall  rider  going  his  way,  whom  he  had  passed  on 
the  slope — the  president  of  Suez  University. 

"  I  believe  you're  not  often  overtaken,  once  you're  in 
the  saddle,  Mr.  March." 

John  "  reckoned  that  was  so,"  and  said  that  as  he 
came  up  the  hill  he  had  been  so  busy  thinking,  that  he 
had  not  recognized  the  quiet  gray  man  in  time  to  salute 
him.  The  poverty-chastened  gentleman  had  "  seen  how 
it  was,"  and  began  to  speak  of  the  great  changes  im 
pending  over  Widewood  and  in  Suez,  principally  due, 


408  JOHN  MA  R  CH,  SO  U  7  'HERNER 

he    insisted    with    a   very   agreeable   dignity,    to    Mr. 
March's  courageous  and  untiring  perseverance. 

"  It's  true  you  couldn't  have  succeeded  without  some 
support  from  such  resolute  and  catholic  spirits  as 
i  Major  Garnet  and  President  Gamble  ;  but  when  I  lately 
j  spoke  to  them  they  said  emphatically  that,  in  compari- 
I  son  with  you,  they  had  done  nothing ;  and  Mr.  Leggett, 
who  was  present,  confirmed  them  and  included  himself. 
He  had  brought  them  to  me  to  urge  me  to  take  a  few 
shares  which  were  for  the  moment  available.  The 
holder,  I  believe,  was  the  lady  who  teaches  French  here 
in  the  Academy,  Mademoiselle  Eglantine ;  yes.  I  have 
no  money  to  invest,  however,  and  Mr.  Leggett  tells  me 
she  has  changed  her  mind  again  and  will  keep  the 
stock,  which  I  am  sure  is  wise.  The  Construction  Com 
pany  ? — I  think  it  an  excellent  idea ;  admirable  !  I 
mustn't  detain  you,  Mr.  March,  though  I  have  a  request 
to  make.  Possibly  you  know  that  our  more  advanced 
students  gather  for  an  hour  or  so  once  a  week  in  what 
we've  named  our  Social  Hall,  for  various  forms  of 
profitable  entertainment  ?  Now  and  then  we  have  the 
good  fortune  to  have  some  man  of  mark  address  us 
informally,  and  if  you,  Mr.  March,  would  do  so,  there's 
no  one  else  in  this  region  whom  our  young  people  would 
be  so  pleased  to  hear." 

John  thanked  the  president  for  the  honor.  If  there 
was  only  something,  anything,  on  which  he  was  really 

qualified  to  speak — but 

"  Mr.  March,  speak  on  the  imperative  need  of  organized 
effort  harmoniously  combined,  for  the  accomplishment 
of  almost  all  large  undertakings !  Or  on  the  growing 


A  PROBLEM  409 

necessity  men  find  to  trust  their  interest  in  one  another's 
hands !  Oh  !  you  can  hardly  be  at  a  loss  for  a  theme, 
I'm  sure ;  but  those  are  points  which,  it  seems  to  me, 
our  state  of  society  here  makes  it  especially  needful  to 
emphasize.  Don't  you  think  so,  Mr.  March?" 

Mr.  March  thought  so  ;  ahem  !  There  was  a  pause, 
and  then  they  talked  of  the  loveliness  of  the  season. 
The  temperature,  they  decided,  must  be  about  seventy- 
seven.  And  what  a  night  the  last  one  had  been !  Mr. 
March  had  attended  a  meeting  of  the  land  company's 
board,  which  did  not  adjourn  until  very  late,  but  he 
simply  had  to  take  a  long  walk  in  the  starlight  after 
ward,  and  even  when  that  was  done  he  stayed  up  until 
an  absurd  hour  writing  a  description  of  the  glorious 
Southern  night  to  a  friend  in  New  England  who  wras 
still  surrounded  by  frozen  hills  and  streams. 

"  I  hardly  know  an  easier  way  to  delight  a  Xew 
Englanders  fancy  at  this  time  of  year,"  said  the  gray 
president.  "  Or  is  your  friend  a  Southern  man  ?  " 

"  Oh — eh — no,  sir,  she's  a  Southern  girl.  I — well,  I 
had  to  write  her  on  business,  anyhow,  and  I  just  yielded 
to  the  impulse — wrote  it,  really,  more  to  myself 
than " 

Mr.  March  dreamed  a  moment  and  presently  spoke 
again. 

"  It's  barely  possible  I  shall  have  to  leave  town  to 
morrow  or  next  day,  sir  ;  if  I  don't  I'll  try  to  meet  your 
wish.  Well,  sir,  good-day."  He  galloped  on. 

John  had  often  before  left  Suez  and  crossed  the  old 
battle-iield  benumbed  with  consternation  and  galled 
wTith  doubts  of  himself;  but  he  had  always  breathed  in 


410  JOHN  MA  R  CIft  SO  U  THERNER 

new  strength  among  the  Widewood  hills.  Not  so  to 
day.  When  once  or  twice  he  let  his  warm  horse  walk 
and  his  thought  seek  rest,  the  approbations  of  Proudfit 
and  Shotwell,  Parson  Tombs,  the  president  of  Suez 
University,  and  such —  Oh  !  they  only  filled  him  with 
gaspings.  He  tried  to  think  what  man  of  real  weight 
there  still  was  with  whose  efforts  he  might  "  harmoni 
ously  combine  "  his  own ;  but  he  knew  well  enough 
there  was  not  one  who  had  not,  seemingly  through 
some  error  of  his,  drifted  beyond  his  hail. 

As  the  turnings  of  the  mountain  road  led  him  from 
each  familiar  vista  to  the  next,  more  and  more  griev 
ously  bore  down  upon  his  spirit  the  sacred  charge  which 
he  had  inherited  along  with  this  majestic  forest.  His 
father's  presence  and  voice  seemed  with  him  again  as  at 
one  point  he  halted  a  moment  because  it  had  been  the 
father's  habit  to  do  so,  and  gazed  for  down  and  away 
upon  Suez  and  off  in  the  west  where  Rosemont's  roof 
and  grove  lay  in  a  flood  of  sunlight. 

"  Oh,  son,"  he  could  almost  hear  the  dear  voice  say 
again,  as  just  there  it  had  once  said,  "I  do  believe  it's 
fah  betteh  to  get  cheated  once  in  a  while  than  to  be 
afraid  to  trust  those  who're  not  afraid  to  trust  us. 
Why,  son,  we  wouldn't  ever  a-been  father  and  son  at 
all,  only  for  the  sweet  trustfulness  of  yo'  dear  mbtheh. 
Think  o'  that,  son  ;  you  an'  me  neveh  bein'  any  rela 
tion  to  each  otheh  !  " 

The  rider's  bosom  heaved.  But  the  nex«t  moment  he 
was  hearkening.  A  distant  strain  of  human  mirth  came 
softly  from  farther  up  in  the  wooded" hilfs  ;  one  TmcTno 
more,  as  if  those  who  made  it  had  descended  from  some 


A  PROBLEM  411 

swell  of  the  land  into  one  of  its  tangled  hollows.  He 
listened  in  vain.  All  he  heard  was  that  beloved  long- 
lost  voice  saying  once  more  in  his  lonely  heart,  "  Make 
haste  and  grow,  son."  He  put  in  the  spur. 
!  Down  a  long  slope,  up  a  sudden  rise,  over  a  level 
curve  wrhere  a  fox-squirrel  leaped  into  the  road  and 
scampered  along  it ;  up  again,  down  into  a  hollow, 
across  the  ridge  beyond — so  he  was  going,  when  voices 
sounded  again,  then  hoofs  and  wheels,  and  flashing  and 
darkling  in  the  woodland's  afternoon  shadows  came  a 
party  of  four,  two  under  hats,  two  under  bonnets, 
drawn  by  Bulger's  handsome  trotters  in  Garnet's  carry 
all.  Garnet  drove.  Beside  him  sat  Mrs.  March  lumin 
ous  with  satisfaction,  and  on  the  back  seat  with  Bulger 
was  a  small  thin  woman  whose  flaxen  hair  was  flattened 
in  quince-seed  waves  on  her  pretty  temples,  and  whom 
John  knew  slightly  as  Mrs.  Gamble.  Bulger  and  the 
ladies  waved  hands.  Only  Garnet's  smile  showed  re 
straint. 

In  the  board  meeting  of  the  night  before,  though 
surprise  and  annoyance  at  John's  presence  and  atti 
tude  were  obvious,  only  the  Major  and  he  had  openly 
struck  fire.  When  Gamble,  Garnet,  and  Bulger  were 
left  alone,  Bulger,  who  had  all  along  been  silent,  re 
marked  to  Garnet : 

"  I  never  drive  with  a  whip.  There's  lots  of  horse  in 
a  young  fellow  like  March,  and  I  never  blame  a  horse 
for  not  liking  what  he  don't  understand.  I  give  him 
lump-sugar.  If  he's  vicious,  that's  another  thing ;  but 
when  he's  only  nervous — Got  a  match,  Gamble? — 
Thanks.  Now,  I'll  tell  you  what  let's  do  first  thing 


412  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

to-morrow  morning."  And  this,  with  one  or  two  happy 
modifications  suggested  by  Garnet  and  Gamble,  was 
now  being  done. 


LXVIII. 

FAREWELL,    WIDEWOOD 

JOHN  was  lost  in  a  conflict  of  strong  emotions.  Sore 
beset,  he  forced  them  all  aside  for  the  moment  and 
yielded  only  to  a  grateful  wonder  as  he  looked  upon  his 
pretty  mother  with  her  lap  full  of  spring  flowers.  For 
the  first  time  in  their  acquaintance  her  shapely  ear  was 
not  waiting  to  receive,  nor  her  refined  lips  to  reject,  his 
usual  rough  apologies.  Her  tone  of  resignation  was 
almost  playful  as  she  said  that  the  first  news  of  his  re 
turn  had  come  to  her  through  her  present  kind  com 
panions. 

Mrs.  Gamble  put  in  that  she  had  induced  Mrs. 
March  to  join  them,  on  their  return  from  their  moun 
tain  drive,  by  telling  her  that  her  son  was  so  full  of  his 
work  in  his,  her,  and  their  common  interest,  that  she 
could  not  expect  him  to  come  to  her. 

"  And  you  all  were  bringing  mother  in  to  see  me  ?  " 
exclaimed  John. 

"  Certing !  "  said  blithe  Mrs.  Gamble,  while  Garnet 
faltered  a  smiling  disclaimer,  and  the  son  wondered 
what  hidden  influence  was  making  endurable  to  his 
mother  the  company  of  a  woman  who  declared  he 


FAREWELL,    WIDE  WOOD  413 

would  soon  have  this  wilderness  turned  into  a  "  frewtful 
garding."  But  as  Mrs.  Gamble  turned  from  him  and 
engaged  Mrs.  March's  and  Bulger's  attention,  Garnet 
gave  him  a  beckoning  nod,  and  as  he  came  round,  the 
Major  leaned  out  and  softly  said,  with  a  most  amiable 
dignity : 

"We  were  really  looking  for  you,  too.  Don't  you 
want,  just  for  three  or  four  hours,  to  forget  last  night's 
discord  and  come  along  with  Sister  March  and  us? 
We've  got  a  pleasant  surprise  for  her,  and  we'll  enjoy  it 
more,  and  so  will  she,  if  you  take  part  in  it." 

"  Why,  Major  Garnet — hm  ! — I  can  forget ;  I  only 
can't  recede,  sir.  But — 

"  Better  speak  a  little  lower." 

"  Yes,  sir.  Where's  mother  going  with  you,  sir  ?  I 
suppose  she  knows  that,  of  course  ? " 

"O  yes,  she  knows  that.  President  Gamble  and 
his  wife  have  invited  a  few  of  us — the  two  Miss  Kin- 
singtons,  Mademoiselle,  Brother  and  Sister  Tombs, 
Proudfit,  Sister  Proudfit,  Launcelot  Halliday,  and 
Fannie " 

"  Professor  Pettigrew  ?  "  asked  John. 

"No,  just  a  few  of  us — to  a  sort  of  literary  evening. 
But  Sister  March  doesn't  know  that  I've  been  asked  to 
read  a  number  of  her  poems ;  you'll  be  expected  to  re 
cite  others,  and  the  evening  will  close  with  the  an 
nouncement  that  we — that  is,  Mrs.  Gamble,  Bulger,  and 
I — I'm  afraid  you'll  think  we've  taken  a  great  liberty 
in  your  absence,  Brother  March  ;  I " 

"  What  have  you  been  doing,  Major  Garnet  ?  " 

"  Why,  John,  we've  outrun  your  intended  efforts  and 


414  JOHN  MA  R  CY7,   SO  U  THERNER 

— partly  by  mail,  partly  by  telegraph — the  news  only 
came  this  morning — we've  found  Sister  March  a  pub 
lisher." 

"  Why,  Major  Garnet !  "  whispered  John,  with  girlish 
tenderness.  Tears  sprang  to  his  eyes. 

"They're  a  new  house,  just  starting,"  continued 
Garnet,  "  but  they'll  print  the  poems  at  once." 

"In  Boston  or  New  York?"  interrupted  John. 

"  Pittsburgh 

"  But  how  did  they  decide,  Major,  without  seeing  the 
poems  ?  " 

"  They  didn't ;  Sister  March  loaned  me  some  of  her 
duplicates." 

"  I  hope  you  got  good  terms,  did  you  ?  " 

"Excellent.  Thirty-three  and  a  third  per  cent, 
royalty  after  the  first  five  thousand.  Why,  John, 
Dixie  alone  will  want  that  many." 

John  "  reckoned  so "  and  backed  his  horse.  Mrs. 
Gamble  ratified  the  Major's  invitation,  and  the  horse 
man  replied  to  the  smiling  four  that  he  must  go  home 
for  one  or  two  matters,  but  would  make  haste  to  join 
them  in  Suez.  As  Garnet  lifted  the  reins  Mrs.  March 
settled  herself  anew  at  his  side  with  a  sweet  glance  into 
his  face  which  disturbed  her  son,  it  seemed  so  fondly 
personal.  But  this  disquietude  quickly  left  him  as  he 
rode  away,  when  he  remembered  the  Major's  daughter 
having  lifted  just  such  a  look  at  himself,  for  whom, 
manifestly,  she  cared  nothing,  except  in  the  most  color 
less  way. 

Daphne  Jane,  at  Widewood,  swinging  on  the  garden- 


FAREWELL,    WIDE  WOOD  415 

gate  and  cackling  airily  to  a  parting  visitor,  slipped  to 
the  ground  as  Widewood's  master  suddenly  appeared, 
although  just  then  the  first  light-hearted  smile  of"  that 
day  broke  upon  his  face.  It  was  the  parting  visitor, 
also  mounted,  whose  presence  pleased  him  in  a  degree 
so  unexpected  even  to  himself  that  he  promptly  abated 
his  first  show  of  delight. 

"Why,  Johanna,  you  important  adjunct!  To  what 
are  we  indebted  for" — the  tone  grew  vacant — "this 
— pleasure  ?  "  His  gay  look  darkened  to  one  of  swift 
reflection  and  crushing  inference.  "  Do — do  you  want 
to  see  me?  "  he  blurted,  and  somewhere  under  her  dark 
skin  Johanna  blushed.  "  Xo,  of  course  you  don't." 

As  he  dismounted — "  Jane,"  he  said,  "  you  no  need 
to  come  in  ;  finish  your  confab."  Upstairs  he  tried  to 
recall  the  errand  that  had  brought  him  there,  but  Bar 
bara's  maid  filled  all  his  thought.  He  saw  her  from  a 
window  and  silently  addressed  her. 

"You're  not  yourself!  You're  your  mistress  and  you 
know  it !  You're  she,  come  all  the  way  back  from  the 
land  of  snow  to  counsel  me ;  and  you're  welcome. 
There's  balm,  at  least,  in  a  sweet  woman's  counsel, 
womanly  given.  Balm ;  ah,  me !  neither  she  nor  I 
have  any  right — O !  what  am  I  looking  for  in  this 
drawer? — Xo,  I'll  take  just  this  word  from  her  and  then 
no  more  !  "  Down-stairs  he  paused  an  instant  in  passing 
his  mother's  portrait.  "Xo,  dear,"  he  said,  "we'll  mix 
nothing  else  with  our  one  good  dream — AVidewood  filled 
with  happy  homes  and  this  one,  with  just  you  and  me 
in  it,  the  happiest  of  them  all !  " 

On  the  gate  Daphne  Jane  still  prattled,  but  after  half 


416  fOHX  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

a  dozen  false  starts  Johanna,  for  gentle  shame's  sake, 
had  felt  obliged  to  go.  Her  horse  paced  off  briskly,  and 
a  less  alert  nature  than  Daphne  Jane's  would  have 
fancied  her  soon  far  on  her  way.  As  John  came  forth 
again  he  saw  no  sign  that  his  mother's  maid,  slowly 
walking  toward  the  house  with  her  eyes  down,  was  not 
engaged  in  some  pious  self-examination,  instead  of 
listening  down  the  mountain  road  with  both  ears.  But 
she  easily  guessed  he  was  doing  the  same  thing. 

"  Well,  Jane,"  he  said  as  he  loosed  his  bridle  from  the 
fence,  "  been  writing  something  for  Johanna  ? "  and 
when  she  said,  "  Yass,  sell,"  he  knew  the  bashful  lie  was 
part  of  her  complicity  in  a  matter  she  did  not  under 
stand,  but  only  hoped  it  was  some  rascality.  A  secret 
delight  filled  her  bosom  as  he  mounted  and  walked  his 
horse  out  of  sight.  She  stopped  with  lifted  head  and 
let  her  joy  tell  itself  in  a  smiling  whisper: 

"Trott'n' !"  She  hearkened  again  ;  the  smile  widened  ; 
the  voice  rose  :  "  Gallopin' !  "  Her  eyes  dilated  merrily 
and  she  cried  aloud : 

"  Ga-allopin',  ga-allopin',  lippetty-clip,  down  Zigzag 
Hill !  "  Her  smile  became  a  laugh,  the  laugh  a  song, 
the  song  a  dance  which  joined  the  lightness  of  a  butter 
fly  with  the  grace  of  a  girl  whose  mothers  had  never 
worn  a  staylace,  and  she  ran  with  tossing  arms  and 
willowy  undulations  to  kiss  her  image  in  Daphne's 
glass. 

With  a  hundred  or  so  of  small  stones  rattling  at  his 
horse's  heels  John  reached  the  foot  of  "  Zigzag  Hill," 
turned  with  the  forest  road  once  or  twice  more,  noticed, 
by  the  tracks,  that  Johanna's  horse  was  walking,  and 


FAREWELL,    WIDE  WOOD  417 

at  another  angle  saw  her  just  ahead  timorously  working 
her  animal  sidewise  to  the  edge  of  the  way. 

"  Johanna,"  he  began  as  lie  dashed  up — "  O  ! — don't 
get  scared — didn't  you  come  out  here  in  hopes  to  some 
how  let  me  know  " — he  took  on  a  look  of  angry  distress 
— "  that  the  Suez  folks  are  talking  ?  " 

The  girl  started  and  stammered,  but  the  young 
man  knitted  his  brows  worse.  "  Umhm.  That's  all 
right."  His  horse  leaped  so  that  he  had  to  look  back 
to  see  her,  as  he  added  more  kindly : 

"  I'm  much  obliged  to  you,  Johanna — Good-by." 

The  face  he  had  thus  taken  by  surprise  tried,  too  late, 
to  smile  away  the  signs  that  its  owner  was  grieved  and 
hurt.  A  few  rods  farther  on  John  wheeled  around  and 
trotted  back.  Her  pulse  bounded  with  gratitude. 

"  Johanna,  of  course,  if  I  stay  here  I  shall  keep  en 
tirely  out  of  Mrs.  Ravenel's  sight,  or " 

The  girl  made  a  despairing  gesture  that  brought 
John's  frown  again. 

"  AVhy,  what  ?  "  he  asked  with  a  perplexed  smile. 

"  Law !  Mr.  Mahch,  you  cayn't  all  of  a  sudden  do 
dat ;  dey'll  on'y  talk  wuss." 

"  "Well,  Johanna — I'm  not  going  to  try  it.  I'm  going 
to  take  the  express  train  this  evening."  He  started  on, 
but  checked  up  once  more  and  faced  around.  "  O — eh — 
Johanna,  I'd  rather  you'd  not  speak  of  this,  you  under 
stand.  I  nattily  don't  want  Mrs.  Raven  el  to  know  why 
I  go  ;  but  I'm  even  more  particular  about  General  Halli- 
day.  It's  none  o'  his — hm !  I  say  I  don't  want  him  to 
know.  Well,  good-by.  O — eh — Johanna,  have  you  no 
word — of  course,  you  know,  the  North's  a  mighty  sizable 


418  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

place,  and  still  it's  just  possible  I  might  chance  some 
day  to  meet  up  with — eh — eh — however,  it's  aft'  all  so 
utterly  improbable,  that,  really — well,  good-by  !  " 

A  while  later  Johanna  stopped  at  that  familiar  point 
which  overlooked  the  valley  of  the  Swanee  and  the 
slopes  about  Rosemont.  The  sun  had  nearly  set,  but  she 
realized  her  hope.  Far  down  on  the  gray  turnpike  she 
saw  the  diminished  figure  of  John  March  speeding  town- 
ward  across  the  battle-field.  At  the  culvert  he  drew 
rein,  faced  about,  and  stood  gazing  upon  Widewood's 
hills.  She  could  but  just  be  sure  it  was  he,  yet  her  ten 
der  spirit  felt  the  swelling  of  his  heart,  and  the  tears 
rose  in  her  eyes,  that  were  not  in  his  only  because  a  man 
— mustn't. 

While  she  wondered  wistfully  if  he  could  see  her,  his 
arm  went  slowly  up  and  waved  a  wide  farewell  to  the 
scene.  She  snatched  out  her  handkerchief,  flaunted  it, 
and  saw  him  start  gratefully  at  sight  of  her  and  reply 
with  his  own.  Then  he  wheeled  and  sped  on. 

"  Go,"  she  cried,  "  go ;  and  de  Lawd  be  wid  you,  Mr. 
Jawn  Mahch,  Gen'lemun  ! — O  Lawd,  Lawd  !  Mr.  Jawn 
Mahch,  I  wisht  I  knowed  a  nigger  like  you  !  " 


IN  YANKEE  LAND  419 

LXIX. 

IN   YANKEE   LAND 

IT  was  still  early  May  when  Barbara  Garnet  had 
been  six  weeks  in  college.  The  institution  stood  in  one 
of  New  England's  oldest  towns,  a  place  of  unfenced 
greenswards,  among  which  the  streets  wround  and  loitered, 
hunting  for  historic  gambrel-roofed  houses,  many  of 
which  had  given  room  to  other  sorts  less  picturesque  and 
homelike.  In  the  same  search  great  elms  followed 
them  down  into  river  meadows  or  up  among  flowery 
hills,  casting  off  their  dainty  blossoms,  putting  on  their 
leaves,  and  waving  majestic  greetings  to  the  sower  as  he 
strode  across  his  stony  fields. 

Yet  for  all  the  sudden  beauty  of  the  land  and  season 
Miss  Garnet  was  able  to  retain  enough  of  her  "  nostalgia" 
to  comfort  her  Southern  conscience.  She  had  arrived 
in  March  and  caught  Dame  Nature  in  the  midst  of  her 
spring  cleaning,  scolding  her  patient  children;  and  at 
any  rate  her  loyalty  to  Dixie  forbade  her  to  be  quite 
satisfied  with  these  tardy  blandishments.  Let  the  cold 
Connecticut  turn  as  blue  as  heaven,  by  so  much  the 
more  was  it  not  the  green  Swanee  ?  She  had  made  more 
than  one  warm  friendship  among  her  fellow-students, 
but  the  well-trimmed  lamp  of  her  home  feeling  waxed 
not  dim.  It  only  smoked  a  trifle  even  in  Boston,  that 
maze  of  allurements  into  which  no  Southerner  of  her 
father's  generation  ever  sent  his  brother,  no  Southerness 
her  sister,  without  some  fear  of  apostasy. 


420  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

Barbara  had  made  three  visits  to  that  city,  where  Mrs. 
Fair,  the  ladies  said,  "  did  a  great  deal  for  her."  Yet 
when  Mrs.  Fair  said,  with  kind  elation,  "  My  dear,  you 
have  met  Boston,  and  it  is  yours !  "  the  smiling  exile,  as 
she  put  her  hand  into  both  hands  of  her  hostess,  remem 
bered  older  friends  and  silently  apologized  to  herself  for 
having  so  lost  her  heart  to  this  new  one. 

At  that  point  came  in  one  who  was  at  least  an  older 
acquaintance — the  son.  Thoroughly  as  Barbara  had 
always  liked  Henry  Fair,  he  seemed  to  her  to  have 
saved  his  best  attractiveness  until  now,  and  with  a  gen 
tleness  as  masculine  as  it  was  refined,  fitted  into  his 
beautiful  home,  his  city,  the  whole  environing  country, 
indeed,  and  shone  from  them,  in  her  enlivened  fancy, 
like  an  ancestor's  portrait  from  its  frame.  He  came  to 
take  her  to  an  exhibition  of  paintings,  and  thence  to  the 
railway  station,  where  a  fellow-student  was  to  rejoin  her 
for  the  trip  back  to  college.  Mrs.  Fair  had  to  attend  a 
meeting  of  the  society  for  something  or  other,  of  which 
she  was  president. 

"  These  people  make  every  minute  count,"  wrote  Bar 
bara  to  Fannie ;  "  and  yet  they're  far  from  being  always 
at  wrork.  I'm  learning  the  art  of  recreation  from  them. 
Even  the  men  have  a  knack  for  it  that  our  Southern 
men  know  nothing  about." 

"  You  might  endorse  that  '  Fair  versus  March,' " 
replied  Ravenel  to  his  wife,  one  evening,  as  he  lingered 
a  moment  at  tea.  She  had  playfully  shown  him  the  pas 
sage  as  a  timorous  hint  at  better  self-care  ;  but  he  smil 
ingly  rose  and  went  out.  She  kept  a  bright  face,  and 
as  she  sat  alone  re-reading  the  letter,  said,  laughingly, 


IN  YANKEE  LAND  421 

"  Poor  John !  "  and  a  full  minute  afterward,  without 
knowing  it,  sighed. 

This  may  have  been  due,  in  part  at  least,  to  the  fact 
that  Barbara's  long  but  tardy  letter  was  the  first  one 
Fannie  had  received  from  her.  It  told  howT  a  full  cor 
respondence  between  the  writer's  father  and  his  fellow 
college  president  had  made  it  perfectly  comfortable  for 
her  to  appear  at  the  institution  for  the  first  time  quite 
unescorted,  having  within  the  hour  parted  from  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Fair,  who,  though  less  than  three  hours'  run  from 
their  own  home,  would  have  gone  with  her  if  she  could 
have  consented.  She  had  known  that  the  dormitories 
were  full  and  that  like  many  other  students  she  would 
have  to  make  her  home  with  a  private  family,  and  had 
found  it  with  three  very  lovable  sisters,  two  spinsters  and 
a  widow,  who  turned  out  to  be  old  friends — former  in 
timates — of  the  Fairs.  And  now  this  intimacy  had  been 
revived  ;  Mrs.  Fair  had  already  been  to  see  the  nionce> 
although  to  do  so  she  had  come  up  from  Boston  alone. 
How  she  had  gone  back  the  letter  did  not  say.  Fannie 
felt  the  omission. 

"  I  didn't  think  Barb  would  do  me  that  way,"  she 
mused;  and  was  no  better  pleased  when  she  recalled 
a  recent  word  of  Jeff-Jack's :  that  few  small  things  so 
sting  a  woman  as  to  disappoint  her  fondness  and  her 
curiosity  at  the  same  time.  Now  with  men —  How 
ever  !  All  Barbara  had  omitted  was  that  Mrs.  Fair 
had  gone  back  with  her  son,  who  on  his  way  homeward 
from  a  trip  to  New  York  had  been  "  only  too  glad  "  to 
join  her  here,  and  spend  two  or  three  hours  under  spring 
skies  and  shingle  roof  with  the  three  pleasant  sisters. 


422      JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

This  was  in  the  third  of  those  six  weeks  during  which 
Barbara  had  been  at  college.  About  half  of  the  two  or 
three  hours  was  spent  in  a  stroll  along  the  windings  of  a 
small  woodland  river.  The  widow  and  Mrs.  Fair  led 
the  van,  the  two  spinsters  were  the  main  body,  and 
Henry  and  Barbara  straggled  in  the  rear  stooping  side 
by  side  among  white  and  blue  violets,  making  perilous 
ventures  for  cowslips  and  maple  blossoms,  and  com 
mercing  in  sweet  word-lore  and  dainty  likes  and  dis 
likes. 

When  the  procession  turned,  the  two  stragglers  took 
seats  on  a  great  bowlder  round  which  the  stream  broke 
in  rapids,  Barbara  gravely  confessing  to  the  spinsters,  as 
they  lingeringly  passed,  that  she  had  never  done  so 
much  walking  in  her  life  before  as  now  and  here  in  a 
place  where  an  unprotected  girl  could  hire  four  hacks 
for  a  dollar. 

The  widow  and  Mrs.  Fair  left  the  others  behind. 
They  had  once  been  room-mates  at  school,  and  this  walk 
brought  back  something  of  that  old  relation.  They 
talked  about  the  young  man  at  their  back,  and  paused 
to  smile  across  the  stream  at  some  children  in  daring 
colors  on  a  green  hillside  getting  sprouts  of  dandelion. 

"  Do  you  think,"  asked  the  widow,  "  it's  really  been 
this  serious  with  him  all  along  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do.  Henry's  always  been  such  a  pattern  of 
prudence  and  moderation  that  no  one  ever  suspects  the 
whole  depth  of  his  feelings.  He  realizes  she's  very 
young,  and  he  may  have  held  back  until  her  mind — 
her  whole  nature — should  ripen ;  although,  like  him,  as 
you  see,  she's  ripe  beyond  her  years.  But  above  all  he's 


IN  YANKEE  LAND  423 

a  dutiful  son,  aiid  I  believe  he's  simply  been  waiting  till 
he  could  see  her  effect  on  us  and  ours  on  her.  Tell  me 
frankly,  dear,  how  do  you  like  her?  " 

The  Yankee  widow  had  bright  black  eyes  and  they 
twinkled  with  restrained  enthusiasm  as  she  murmured, 
"  I  hope  she'll  get  him !  " 

"Ah !  "  Mrs.  Fair  smiled  gratefully,  made  a  pretty 
mouth  and  ended  with  a  wise  gesture  and  a  dubious 
toss,  as  who  should  say,  "  I  admit  he's  priceless,  but  I 
hope  he  may  get  her." 

Whereupon  the  widow  ventured  one  question  more, 
and  Mrs.  Fair  told  her  of  John  March.  "  Yes,"  she 
said  at  the  end,  "  he  happened  to  be  in  Boston  for  his 
company  last  Saturday  when  Miss  Garnet  was  with  us, 
and  Henry  brought  him  to  the  house.  I  wasn't  half 
glad,  though  I  like  him,  quite.  He's  a  big,  handsome, 
swinging  fellowr  that  everybody  invites  to  everything. 
He  makes  good  speeches  before  the  clubs  and  flaunts 
his  Southern  politics  just  enough  to  please  our  Yankee 
fondness  for  being  politely  sassed." 

"  Why,  dear,  isn't  that  a  rather  good  trait  in  us  ?  It's 
zest  for  the  overlooked  fact,  isn't  it  ? " 

"  O  ! — it  has  its  uses.  It  certainly  furnishes  a  larger 
feeling  of  superiority  to  both  sides  at  once  than  any 
thing  else  I  know  of." 

"You  say  Henry  brought  him  to  the  house  while 
Miss  Garnet  was  with  you " 

"  Yes ;  and,  my  dear,  I  wish  you  might  have  seen 
those  two  Southerners  meet !  They  didn't  leave  us  any 
feeling  of  superiority  then  ;  at  least  he  didn't.  Except 
that  they're  both  so  Southern,  they're  not  alike.  She 


424  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

moved  right  in  among  us  without  the  smallest  misstep. 
He  made  a  dozen  delicious  blunders.  It  was  lovely  to 
see  how  sweetly  she  and  Henry  helped  him  up  and 
brushed  him  off,  and  the  boyish  manfuluess  with  which 
he  always  took  it.  I  couldn't  tell,  sometimes,  which  of 
the  three  to  like  best." 

Those  behind  called  them  to  hearken  to  the  notes  of  a 
woodlark,  and  when  Mrs.  Fair  asked  her  son  the  hour  it 
was  time  to  get  to  the  station.  Barbara  would  not  say 
just  when  she  could  be  in  Boston  again ;  but  the  class 
mate  she  liked  best  was  a  Boston  girl,  and  by  the  time 
this  college  life  had  lasted  six  weeks  her  visits  to  the  city 
had  been  three,  as  aforesaid.  In  every  instance,  with  an 
unobtrusiveness  all  his  own,  Henry  Fair  had  made  her 
pleasure  his  business.  On  the  second  visit  she  had 
•  expected  to  meet  Mr.  March  again — a  matter  wholly  or 
his  contriving — but  had  only  got  his  telegram  from  New 
York  at  the  last  moment  of  her  stay,  stating  that  he 
was  unavoidably  detained  by  business,  and  leaving 
space  for  six  words  unused.  The  main  purpose  of  her 
third  visit  had  been  to  attend  witli  Mrs.  Fair  a  recep 
tion  given  by  that  lady's  club.  It  had  ended  with 
dancing ;  but  Mr.  Fair  had  not  danced  to  suit  her  and 
Mr.  March  had  not  danced  at  all,  but  had  allowed  him 
self  to  betray  dejection,  and  had  torn  her  dress.  Back 
at  college  she  had  told  the  favorite  classmate  how  she 
had  chided  Mr.  March  for  certain  trivial  oversights  and 
feared  she  had  been  severe ;  and  when  the  classmate 
insisted  she  had  not  been  nearly  severe  enough  she  said 
good-night  and  went  to  her  room  to  mend  the  torn 
dress ;  and  as  she  sewed  she  gnawed  her  lip,  wished  she 


IN  YANKEE  LAND  425 

had  never  left  Suez,  and   salted  her  needle  with  slow 
tears. 

Thus  ended  the  sixth  week — stop !  I  was  about  to 
forget  the  thing  for  which  I  began  the  chapter — and, 
anyhow,  this  was  not  Saturday,  it  was  Friday  !  While 
Barbara  wras  so  employed,  John  March,  writing  to 
Henry  Fair  from  somewhere  among  the  Rhode  Island 
cotton-spinners,  said : 

"  To-night  I  go  to  New  York,  where  I  have  an 
important  appointment  to-morrow  noon,  but  I  can  leave 
there  Monday  morning  at  five  and  be  in  Springfield  at 
ten-twenty-five.  If  you  will  get  there  half  an  hour  later 
by  the  train  that  leaves  Boston  at  seven,  I  will  tele 
graph  the  Springfield  men  to  meet  us  in  the  bank  at 
eleven.  They  assure  me  that  if  you  confirm  my  answers 
to  their  questions  they  will  do  all  I've  asked.  Please 
telegraph  your  reply,  if  favorable,  to  my  New  York 
address." 

About  three  o'clock  of  Saturday  March  was  relieved 
of  much  anxiety  by  receipt  of  Fair's  telegram.  It  was  a 
long  time  before  Monday  morning,  but  in  a  sudden 
elation  he  strapped  his  valise  and  said  to  the  porter — 
"  Grand  Central  Depot." 

"  Back  to  Boston  again  ?  " 

"  Xot  much !  But  I'm  not  going  to  get  up  at  four 
o'clock  Monday  morning  either." 

In  Boston  that  evening  a  servant  of  the  Fairs  told  one 
of  their  familiar  friends  who  happened  to  drop  in,  that 
Mr.  Fair,  senior,  was  in,  but  that  Mr.  Henry  had  gone 
to  spend  Sunday  at  some  Connecticut  River  town,  he 
wras  not  sure  which,  but — near  Springfield. 


426  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

LXX. 

ACROSS   THE   MEADOWS 

NEXT  morning,  John  March,  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life,  saw  and  heard  the  bobolink. 

"  Ah !  you  turncoat  scoundrel !  "  he  laughed  in  a  sort 
of  fond  dejection,  "  you've  come  North  to  be  a  lover  too, 
have  you?  You  were  songless  enough  down  South  !  " 

But  the  quivering  gallant  went  singing  across  the 
fields,  too  drunk  with  the  joy  of  loving  to  notice  accusers. 

On  the  previous  evening  March  had  come  up  by  rail 
some  fifteen  miles  beyond  the  brisk  inland  city  just  men 
tioned  and  stopped  at  a  certain  "  Mount  " — no  matter 
what — known  to  him  only  through  casual  allusions  in 
one  or  two  letters  of — a  friend.  Here  he  had  crossed  a 
hand-ferry,  climbed  a  noted  hill,  put  up  at  its  solitary 
mountain  house — being  tired  of  walls  and  pavements,  as 
he  had  more  than  once  needlessly  explained — and  at  his 
chamber  window  sat  looking  down,  until  most  of  them 
had  vanished,  upon  a  cluster  of  soft  lights  on  the  other 
side  of  the  valley,  shining  among  the  trees  of  the  em 
bowered  town  where  one  who  now  was  never  absent  from 
his  thoughts  was  at  school. 

The  knowledge  that  he  loved  her  was  not  of  yester 
day  only.  He  could  count  its  age  in  weeks  and  a  frac 
tion,  beginning  with  the  evening  when  "  those  two  South 
erners"  had  met  in  Mrs.  Fair's  drawing-room.  Since 
then  the  dear  trouble  of  it  had  ever  been  with  him,  deep, 
silent,  dark — like  this  night  on  the  mountain — shot  with 


ACROSS  THE  MEADOWS  427 

meteors  of  brief  exultation,  and  starlighted  with  recol 
lections  of  her  every  motion,  glance,  and  word. 

At  sunrise,  looking  again,  he  saw  the  town's  five  or 
six  spires,  and  heard  one  tell  the  hour  and  the  college 
bell  confirm  it.  Care  was  on  his  brow,  but  you  could 
see  it  wras  a  care  that  came  of  new  freedom.  He  was 
again  a  lover,  still  tremorous  with  the  wonder  of  un 
sought  deliverance  from  his  dungeon  of  not-loving. 
And  now  the  stern  yet  inspiring  necessity  was  not  to 
let  his  delivering  angel  find  it  out ;  to  be  a  lover,  but 
not  a  suitor.  Hence  his  presence  up  here  instead  of 
down  in  the  town  beyond  the  meadows  and  across  the 
river.  He  would  make  it  very  plain  to  her  and  her 
friends  that  he  had  not  come,  ahead  of  his  business 
appointment,  to  thrust  himself  upon  her,  but  to  get  a 
breath  of  heaven's  own  air — being  very  tired  of  walls 
and  pavements — and  to — to  discover  the  bobolink ! 

Of  course,  being  so  near,  he  should  call.  He  must 
anyhow  go  to  church,  and  if  only  he  could  keep  himself 
from  starting  too  early,  there  was  no  reason  why  he 
should  not  combine  the  two  duties  and  make  them  one 
pleasure.  Should  he  ride  or  drive  ?  He  ordered  the 
concern's  best  saddle-horse,  walked  mournfully  half 
round  him,  and  said,  "  I  reckon — I  reckon  I'll  drive. 
Sorry  to  trouble  you,  but " 

"  Put  him  in  the  shafts,  Dave,"  said  the  stable-keeper^ 
and  then  to  the  guest,  "  No  trouble,  sir  ;  if  a  man  doesn't 
feel  safe  in  a  saddle  he'd  better  not  monkey  with  it." 

"  I  dare  say,"  sedately  responded  John.  "  I  suppose 
a  man  oughtn't  to  try  to  learn  to  ride  without  some 
body  to  go  along  with  him." 


428  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

The  boy  had  just  finished  harnessing  the  animal, 
when  March  started  with  a  new  thought.  He  steadied 
himself,  turned  away,  drew  something  from  his  pocket, 
consulted  and  returned  it — it  was  neither  a  watch  nor 
a  weapon — and  rejoining  the  stable-keeper  said,  with  a 
sweet  smile  and  a  red  face : 

"  See  here,  it's  only  three  miles  over  there.  If  you'll 
let  me  change  my  mind " 

"  You'll  walk  it — 0  all  right !  If  you  change  your 
mind  again  you  can  let  us  know  on  your  return." 

John  took  a  way  that  went  by  a  bridge.  It  was 
longer  than  the  other,  by  way  of  a  ferry,  but  time,  for 
the  moment,  was  a  burden  and  either  way  was  beauti 
ful.  The  Sabbath  was  all  smiles.  On  the  Hampshire 
hills  and  along  the  far  meanderings  of  the  Connecticut 
a  hundred  tints  of  perfect  springtide  beguiled  the  heart 
to  forget  that  winter  had  ever  been.  Above  a  balmy 
warmth  of  sunshine  and  breeze  in  which  the  mellowed 
call  of  church-bells  floated  through  the  wide  valley 
from  one  to  another  of  half  a  dozen  towns  and  villages, 
silvery  clouds  rolled  and  unrolled  as  if  in  stately  play, 
swung,  careened,  and  fell  melting  through  the  marvel 
lous  blue,  or  soared  and  sunk  and  soared  again.  Keep 
ing  his  eyes  much  on  such  a  heaven,  our  inexperienced 
walker  thought  little  of  close-fitting  boots  until  he  had 
to  sit  down,  screened  from  the  public  road  by  a  hillock, 
and,  with  a  smile  of  amusement  but  hardly  of  compla 
cency,  smooth  a  cruel  wrinkle  from  one  of  his  very 
striped  socks.  Just  then  a  buckboard  rumbled  by, 
filled  with  pretty  girls,  from  the  college,  he  guessed, 
driving  over  to  that  other  college  town,  seven  miles 


IN  THE    WOODS  429 

across  the  valley,  where  a  noted  Boston  clergyman  was 
to  preach  to-day ;  but  the  foot-passenger  only  made 
himself  a  bit  smaller  and  chuckled  at  the  lucky  privacy 
of  his  position.  As  they  got  by  he  stole  a  peep  at  their 
well-dressed  young  backs,  and  the  best  dressed  and 
shapeliest  was  Barbara  Garnet's.  The  driver  was 
Henry  Fair.  It  was  then  that  the  bobolink,  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life,  saw  and  heard  John  March. 


LXXI. 

IN   THE    WOODS 

THE  sun  mounted  on  to  noon  and  nature  fell  into  a 
reverent  stillness ;  but  in  certain  leafy  aisles  under  the 
wooded  bluffs  and  along  that  narrow  stream  where  Mrs. 
Fair  some  three  weeks  earlier  had  walked  with  the 
widow,  the  Sabbath  afternoon  was  scarcely  half  spent 
before  the  air  began  to  be  crossed  and  cleft  with  the 
vesper  hymns  and  serenades  of  plumed  worshippers 
and  lovers. 

It  was  a  place  to  quicken  the  heart  and  tongue  of 
any  wooer.  The  breezes  moved  pensively  and  without 
a  sound.  On  the  middle  surface  of  the  water  the  sun 
shine  lay  in  wide  bands,  liquid-bordered  under  over 
hanging  boughs  by  glimmering  shadows  that  wove  lace 
in  their  sleep.  Between  the  stream  and  the  steep 
ground  ran  an  abandoned  road  fringed  with  ferns,  its 


430  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

• 

brown  pine-fallings  flecked  with  a  sunlight  that  fell 
through  the  twined  arms  and  myriad  green  fingers  of 
all-namable  sorts  of  great  and  lesser  trees.  You  would 
have  said  the  forest's  every  knight  and  lady,  dwarf, 
page,  and  elf — for  in  this  magical  seclusion  all  the 
world's  times  were  tangled  into  one — had  come  to  the 
noiseless  dance  of  some  fairy's  bridal;  chestnut  and 
hemlock,  hazel  and  witch-hazel,  walnut  and  willow, 
birches  white  and  yellow,  poplar  and  ash  in  feathery 
bloom,  the  lusty  oaks  in  the  scarred  harness  of  their 
winter  wars  under  new  tabards  of  pink  and  silver- 
green,  and  the  slim  service-bush,  white  with  blooms  and 
writhing  in  maiden  shame  of  her  too  transparent  gown. 
In  each  tangled  ravine  Flora's  little  pious  mortals  of 
the  May — anemone,  yellow  violet,  blood-root,  mustard, 
liverwort,  and  their  yet  humbler  neighbors  and  kin — 
heard  mass,  or  held  meeting — whichever  it  was — and 
slept  for  blissful  lack  of  brain  while  Jack-in-the-pulpit 
preached  to  them,  under  Solomon's  seal,  and  oriole, 
tanager,  warbler,  thrush,  up  in  the  choir-loft,  made  love 
between  the  hymns,  ate  tidbits,  and  dropped  crumbs 
upon  wake-robin,  baby-toes,  and  the  nodding  columbine. 
Was  it  so  ?  Or  wras  it  but  fantasy  in  the  mind  of 
Henry  Fair  alone,  reflected  from  the  mood  of  the  girl 
at  whose  side  he  walked  here,  and  whose  "  Herrick  "  he 
vainly  tried  to  beguile  from  her  in  hope  that  so  she  might 
better  heed  his  words?  It  may  be.  The  joy  of  spring 
wras  in  her  feet,  the  colors  of  the  trees  wyere  answered 
in  her  robes.  Moreover,  the  flush  of  the  orchards  and 
breath  of  the  meadows  through  which  they  had  gone 
and  come  again  were  on  her  cheek  and  in  her  parted 


IN  THE    WOODS  431 

lips,  the  red-brown  depths  of  the  stream  were  in  her 
hair  and  lashes,  and  above  them  a  cunningly  disordered 
thing  of  fine  straw  and  loose  ribbons  matched  the  head 
and  face  it  shaded,  as  though  all  wrere  parts  together  of 
some  flower  unspoiled  by  the  garden's  captivity  and 
escaped  again  into  the  woods. 

To  Barbara's  ear  Fair's  speech  had  always  been  me 
lodious  and  low.  Its  well-tempered  pitch  had  her  ap 
proval  especially  here,  where  not  only  \vas  there  the 
wild  life  of  grove  and  thicket  to  look  and  listen  for, 
but  a  subdued  ripple  of  other  girls'  voices  and  the  stir 
of  other  draperies  came  more  than  once  along  the  path 
and  through  the  bushes.  But  there  are  degrees  and 
degrees,  and  in  this  walk  his  tones  had  gradually  sunk 
to  such  pure  wooing  that  "  Herrick  "  wTas  no  protection 
and  she  could  reply  only  with  irrelevant  pleasantries. 

At  length  he  halted,  and  with  a  lover's  distress  show 
ing  beneath  his  smile,  asked  : 

"  Why  cannot  you  be  serious  with  me — Barbara  ?  " 

In  make-believe  aimlessness  she  swept  the  wood  with 
a  reconnoitring  glance,  and  then  with  eyes  of  maidenly 
desperation  fixed  on  him,  said,  tremblingly  : 

"  Because,  Mr.  Fair,  I  know  what  you  want  to  say, 
and  I  don't  want  you  to  say  it." 

He  turned  their  slow  step  toward  a  low  rock  in  an 
open  space  near  the  water's  edge,  where  no  one  could 
come  near  them  unseen.  "  Would  you  let  me  say 
it  if  we  were  down  in  Dixie?"  he  asked.  "Is  it 
because  you  are  so  far  from  home  ?  " 

"  No,  Mr.  Fair,  I  told  you  I  really  have  no  home. 
I'm  sorry  I  did ;  I'm  afraid  it's  led  you  to  this,  when 


432  JOHN  MARCH,   SOUTHERNER 

everything  I  said — about  taking  myself  into  my  own 
care  and  all — was  said  to  keep  you  from  it." 

The  lover  shook  his  head.  "You  cannot.  You 
must  not.  To  be  that  kind  is  to  be  unkind.  Sit 
here.  You  do  not  know  exactly  what  I  have  to  say ; 
sit  here,  will  you  not  ?  and  while  I  stand  beside  you 
let  me  do  both  of  us  the  simple  honor  to  seal  with  right 
words  what  I  have  so  long  said  in  behavior." 

Barbara  hesitated.  "  O  Mr.  Fair,  what  need  is  there  ? 
Your  behavior's  always  borne  the  seal  of  its  own  per 
fection.  How  could  I  answer  you  ?  If  you  only 
wanted  any  other  answer  but  just  the  one  you  want,  I 
could  give  it — the  kindest  answer  in  the  world,  the 
most  unbounded  praise — 0  I  could  give  it  with  my 
whole  heart  and  soul !  Why,  Mr.  Fair  " — as  she  sadly 
smiled  she  let  him  gaze  into  the  furthest  depth  of  her 
eyes — "  as  far  as  I  can  see,  you  seem  to  me  to  be  ab-so- 
lute-ly  fault-less." 

The  young  man  caught  his  breath  as  if  for  some  word 
of  fond  passion,  but  the  unfaltering  eyes  prevented  him. 
As  she  began  again  to  speak,  however,  they  fell. 

"  And  that's  not  because  I  can't  see  men's  faults.  I 
see  them  so  plainly,  and  show  so  plainly  I  see  them, 
that  sometimes  I  wonder — "  She  left  the  wonder 
implied  while  she  pinched  lichens  from  the  stone.  He 
began  in  a  tender  monotone  to  say : 

"  All  the  more  let  me  speak.  I  cannot  see  you  put 
away  un considered " 

She  lifted  her  eyes  again.  "  0  !  I  know  what  I'm 
putting  away  from  me ;  a  life !  a  life  wider,  richer  than 
I  ever  hoped  to  live.  Mr.  Fair,  it's  as  if  a  beautiful, 


IN  THE   WOODS  433 

great,  strong  ship  were  waiting  to  carry  me  across  a 
summer  sea,  and  I  couldn't  go,  just  for  want  of  the  right 
passport — the  right  heart !  If  I  had  that  it  might  be 
ever  so  different.  I  have  no  other  ship  ever  to  come  in. 
I  say  all  this  only  to  save  you  from  speaking.  The 
only  thing  lacking  is  lacking  in  me."  She  smiled  a 
compassionate  despair.  "  It's  not  you  nor  your  condi 
tions — you  know  it's  none  of  those  dear  ones  who  love 
you  so  at  home — it's  only  I  that  can't  qualify." 

They  looked  at  each  other  in  reverent  silence.  Fair 
turned,  plucked  a  flower,  and  as  if  to  it,  said,  "  I  know 
the  passion  of  love  is  a  true  and  sacred  thing.  But  love 
should  never  be  all,  or  chiefly,  a  passion.  The  love  of  a 
mother  for  her  child,  of  brother  and  sister  for  each 
other,  however  passionate,  springs  first  from  relationship 
and  rises  into  passion  as  a  plant  springs  from  its  root 
into  bloom.  Why  should  not  all  love  do  so?  Why 
should  only  this,  the  most  perilous  kind,  be  made  an 
exception?" 

"Because,"  softly  interrupted  Barbara,  glad  of  a 
moment's  refuge  in  abstractions,  "it  belongs  to  the  only 
relationship  that  comes  by  choice  !  " 

"  Are  passions  ever  the  best  choosers  ?  "  asked  the 
gentle  suitor.  "Has  history  told  us  so,  or  science,  or 
scripture,  or  anybody  but  lovers  and  romancers — and — 
Americans?  Life — living  and  loving — is  the  greatest 
of  the  arts,  and  the  passions  should  be  our  tools,  not  our 
guides." 

"  I  believe  life  is  an  art  to  you,  Mr.  Fair ;  but  to  me 
it's  a  dreadful  battle."  The  speaker  sank  upon  the 
stone,  half  rose  again,  and  then  sat  still. 


434      JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

"  It  hasn't  scarred  you  badly,"  responded  the  lover. 
Then  gravely:  "Do  you  not  think  we  may  find  it 
worth  the  fight  if  we  make  passions  our  chariot  horses 
and  never  our  charioteers  ?  " 

No  answer  came,  though  he  waited.  He  picked 
another  flower  and  asked  :  "  If  you  had  a  brother,  have 
you  the  faintest  doubt  that  you  would  love  him  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Barbara,  "  I  couldn't  help  but  love  him." 
She  thrust  away  the  recollection  of  a  certain  railway 
journey  talk,  and  then  thought  of  her  father. 

Fair  dropped  his  voice.  "  If  I  did  not  know  that  I 
should  not  be  here  to-day.  Barbara,  kinship  is  the  only 
true  root  of  all  abiding  love.  We  cannot  feel  sure  even 
of  God's  love  until  we  call  ourselves  his  children. 
Neither  church,  state,  nor  society  requires  lovers  to  swear 
that  they  love  passionately,  but  that  they  will  love  per 
sistently  by  virtue  of  a  kinship  made  permanent  in  law." 

Law !  At  that  word  Barbara  inwardly  winced,  but 
Fair  pressed  on. 

"  These  marriages  on  the  American  plan,  of  which 
we  are  so  vain,  are  they  the  only  happy  ones,  and 
are  they  all  happy?  When  they  are,  is  it  because  love 
began  as  a  passion,  or  has  it  not  been  because  the  choice 
was  fortunate,  and  love,  whether  from  a  large  or  small 
beginning,  has  grown,  like  that  of  Isaac  and  Rebecca, 
out  of  a  union  made  stronger  than  the  ties  of  blood,  by 
troth  and  oath?  Barbara,  do  you  not  know  in  your 
heart  of  hearts  that  if  you  were  the  wife  of  a  husband, 
wisely  but  dispassionately  chosen,  you  would  love  him 
with  a  wife's  full  love  as  long  as  he  loved  you  ?  YOU  do. 
You  would," 


IN  THE   WOODS  435 

Barbara  was  slow  to  reply,  but  presently  she  began, 
"Unless  I  could  commit  my  fate  to  one  who  already 
loved  me  consumingly "  She  gave  a  start  of  pro 
testation  as  he  exclaimed : 

"  I  love  you  consumingly !  O  Barbara,  Barbara 
Garnet,  let  that  serve  for  us  both !  Words  could  not 
tell  my  joy,  if  I  could  find  in  you  this  day  a  like  pas 
sion  for  me.  But  the  seed  and  soil  of  it  are  here  to  my 
sight  in  what  I  find  you  to  be,  and  all  I  ask  is  that  you 
will  let  reason  fix  the  only  relationship  that  can  truly  feed 
the  flame  which  I  know — I  know — my  love  will  kindle." 

"  0  Mr.  Fair,  I  begged  you  not  to  ask !  " 

"  Do  not  answrer !  Not  now ;  to-morrow  morning. 
If  you  can't  answer  then " 

"  I  can  answer  now,  Mr.  Fair.  Why  should  I  keep 
you  in  suspense  ?  " 

Such  agitation  came  into  the  young  man's  face  as 
Barbara  had  never  thought  to  see.  His  low  voice 
quivered.  "  No  !  No  !  I  beseech  you  not  to  answer  yet ! 
Wait !  Wait  and  weigh  !  O  Barbara !  weigh  well  and 
I  will  wait  well !  Wait !  O  wait  until  you  have  weighed 
all  things  well — my  fortune,  love,  life,  and  the  love  of 
all  who  love  me — 0  weigh  them  all  well,  beloved! 
beloved  one !  " 

Without  warning,  a  grosbeak — the  one  whose  breast 
is  stained  with  the  blood  of  the  rose — began  his  soft, 
sweet  song  so  close  overhead  that  Barbara  started  up, 
and  he  flew.  She  waited  to  catch  the  strain  again,  and 
as  it  drifted  back  her  glance  met  her  lover's.  She 
smiled  tenderly,  but  was  grave  the  next  moment  and 
said,  "  Let  us  go  back." 


436  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

Nevertheless  they  went  very  slowly,  culling  and  ex 
changing  wild  flowers  as  they  went.  On  her  doorstep 
she  said,  "  Now,  in  the  morning " 

"  How  soon  may  I  come  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Immediately  after  chapel." 


LXXII. 

MY   GOOD   GRACIOUS,  MISS   BARB 

"  GOOD-BY,"  said  Fair,  with  an  ardent  last  look. 

"  Good-by,"  softly  echoed  Barbara,  with  eyelids 
down,  and  passed  in. 

According  to  a  habit  contracted  since  coming  to 
college  she  took  a  brief  glimpse  of  the  hat-rack  to  see 
if  it  held  any  other  than  girls'  hats.  Not  that  she 
expected  any  visitor  of  the  sort  that  can't  wear  that 
kind,  but — you  know  how  it  is — the  unexpected  does 
sometimes  call.  Besides,  Mr.  Fair  had  told  her  whom 
he  was  to  meet  in  Springfield  next  day.  But  the  hat- 
rack  said  no.  Nevertheless  she  glanced  also  into  the 
tiny  parlor.  The  widow  sat  there  alone,  reading  the 
Congregationalist.  She  looked  up  with  sweet  surprise, 
and  Barbara,  not  giving  her  time  to  speak,  said  : 

"  The  woods  are  so  per-fect-ly  fas-ci-nat-ing  I'm 
neg-lect-ing  my  cor-re-spond-ence." 

She  dangled  her  hat  at  her  knee  and  slowly  mounted 
to  her  room,  humming  a  dance,  but  longing,  as  some 
sick  wild  thing,  for  a  seclusion  she  had  no  hope  to  find. 


MY  GOOD  GRACIOUS,  MISS  BARB  437 

The  two  college  mates  who  had  driven  with  her  in 
the  morning  were  lolling  on  her  bed.  They  recognized 
the  earliness  of  her  return  by  a  mischievous  sparkle  of 
eyes  which  only  gathered  emphasis  from  the  absence  of 
any  open  comment. 

"  Barbara,"  said  one,  as  she  doubled  a  pillow  under 
her  neck  and  took  on  the  Southern  drawl,  "  par-don 
my  in-quis-i-tive-ness,  but  if  it  isn't  an  im-per-ti-nent 
ques-tion — or  even  if  it  is — how  man-y  but-ter-cups 
did  you  pro-cure,  and  alas  !  where  are  they  now  ? " 

"  Heaow  ?  "  softly  asked  Barbara.  But  the  other 
school-fellow  cried  : 

"  Barbara,  dear,  don't  you  notice  that  girl,  she's  bad. 
I'll  give  you  a  nice,  easy  question.  I  ask  merely  for 
information.  Of  course  you're  not  bound  to  answer 
unless  you  choose " 

"  I  wan't  to  know  !  "  murmured  Miss  Garnet. 

"  Of  course  you  do  ;  you  don't  wrant  to  criminate 
yourself  when  you  haven't  got  to. 

"And  now,  Miss  Garnet — if  that  is  still  your 
name " 

"  Don't  call  me  Miss  Garnet,"  said  Barbara,  with  her 
chin  in  her  hands,  "  call  me  honey." 

"Honey,"  came  the  response,  "where's  our  'Her- 
rick  '  ?  " 

Barbara  sprang  to  her  feet  with  a  gasp  and  vacancy 
of  eye  that  filled  the  room  with  the  laughter  of  her 
companions,  and  the  next  moment  was  speeding  down 
the  stairs  and  across  the  doorstep,  crowding  her  hat  on 
with  one  hand  and  stabbing  it  with  the  other  as  she 
went.  Down  from  the  streets  into  the  wood  she  has- 


438  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

tened,  gained  the  path,  ran  up  it,  walked  by  three  or 
four  pretty  loiterers,  ran  again,  and  on  the  stone  by  the 
water-side  found  the  volume  as  she  had  left  it. 

Then  she  lingered.  As  she  leaned  against  the  rock 
and  gazed  into  the  shaded  depths  of  the  mill-stream  her 
problem  came  again,  and  the  beautiful  solitude  whis 
pered  a  welcome  to  her  to  revolve  and  weigh  and  solve 
it  here.  But  when  she  essayed  to  do  so  it  would  no 
more  be  revolved  or  weighed  by  her  alone  than  this 
huge  bowlder  at  her  side.  Her  baffled  mind  drifted 
into  fantasy,  and  the  hoary  question, Whether  it  is  wiser 
for  a  maiden  to  love  first,  hoping  to  be  chosen  accord 
ingly,  or  to  be  chosen  first  and  hope  to  love  accordingly, 
became  itself  an  age-worn  relic  from  woman's  earlier 
and  harder  lot,  left  by  its  glaciers  as  they  had  melted 
in  the  warmth  of  more  modern  suns. 

She  murmured  a  word  of  impatience  at  such  dream 
ing  and  looked  around  to  see  if  she  was  overheard  ; 
but  the  only  near  presence  was  two  girls  sitting  behind 
and  high  above  her,  one  writing,  the  other  reading, 
under  the  pines.  They  seemed  not  to  have  heard,  but 
she  sauntered  beyond  their  sight  up  the  path,  wonder 
ing  if  they  were  the  kind  in  whom  to  love  was  the  neces 
sity  it  was  in  her,  and,  if  so,  what  they  would  do  in  her 
case.  What  they  would  advise  her  to  do  depended 
mainly,  she  fancied,  on  whether  they  were  in  their  teens 
or  their  twenties.  As  for  married  women,  she  shrank 
from  the  very  thought  of  their  counsel,  whichever  way 
it  might  tend,  and  mused  on  Fannie  Ravenel,  who,  with 
eyes  wide  open,  had  chosen  rather  to  be  made  unhappy 
by  the  one  her  Jbve  had  lighted  on  than  to  take  any 


MY  GOOD  GRACIOUS,  MISS  BARB  439 

other  chance  for  happiness.  She  stopped  her  listless 
walk  and  found  her  wrists  crossed  and  her  hands  knit, 
remembering  one  whom  Fannie  could  have  chosen  and 
would  not. 

Burning  with  resentment  against  herself  for  the 
thought,  she  turned  aside  and  sat  down  on  the  river's 
brink  in  a  shade  of  hemlocks.  "  Come,"  her  actions 
seemed  to  say, "  I  will  think  of  Henry  Fair ;  gentle^ 
noble  Henry  Fair,  and  what  he  is  and  will  and  might 
be ;  of  how  I  love  his  mother  and  all  his  kindred ;  of 
how  tenderly  I  admire  him  ;  and  of  his  trembling  words, 
'  I  love  you  consumingly  ! ' ' 

Her  heart  quickened  gratefully,  as  though  he  spoke 
again  ;  but  as  she  gazed  down  at  the  bubbles  that  floated 
by  from  a  dipping  bough  she  presently  fell  to  musing 
anew  on  Fannie,  without  that  inward  shudder  which 
the  recollection  of  Fannie's  course  and  fate  commonly 
brought.  "  At  least,"  she  thought  to  herself,  "  it's  he 
roic  !  "  Yet  before  she  could  find  a  moment's  comfort 
in  the  reflection  it  was  gone,  and  she  started  up  and 
moved  on  again,  knowing  that,  whatever  it  may 
be  for  man,  for  true  womanhood  the  better  heroism 
is  not  to  give  a  passionate  love  its  unwise  way  at 
heroic  cost,  but  dispassionately  to  master  love  in 
all  its  greatness  and  help  it  grow  to  passion  in  wise 
ways. 

"  If  I  take  this  step,"  she  began  to  say  to  herself  audi 
bly  as  she  followed  the  old  road  out  into  a  neglected 
meadow,  "  I  satisfy  my  father ;  I  delight  my  friends  ;  I 
rid  myself  at  once  and  forever  of  this  dreadful  depend 
ence  on  him."  She  bit  her  lip  and  shut  her  eyes  against 


440  j onx  MA  R  en,  so  u  TIIERNER 

these  politic  considerations.     "  He  tolls  me  to  weigh  the 
matter   well.     How   shall   I,  when  there's    nothing  to 
weigh  against  it?      Fannie   could    choose  between  the 
one  who  loved  her  and  the  one   she  loved.     I  have  no 
choice ;  this  is  the  most — most  likely  it  is  all — that  will 
ever  be  offered   me.     There's  just  the   one  simple  sane 
question  before  me — Shill  I  or  shall  I  ? "     She  smiled. 
"  We  make  too  much  of  it  all !  "  she  thought  on.     "  A 
man's  life  depends  upon  the  man  he  is,  not  on  the  girl  he 
gets  ;  why    shouldn't  it  be  so  with  us  ? "     She  smiled 
&till   more,   and,  glancing  round  the  open   view,   mur 
mured,  "Silly  little  country  girls  !     We  begin  life  as  a 
poem,  we  can't  find  our  rhyme,  WQ  tell  our  mothers — if 
we  have  any — they  say  yes,  it  was  the  same  with   our 
aunts ;  so  we  decide  with  them  that  good  prose  will  do 
very  well ;    they  kiss  us — that  means  they  won't  tell — 
and — O  Heaven !  is  that  our  best  ?  "    She  dropped  upon 
a  bank  and  wept  till  she  shook. 

But  that  would  never  do  !  She  dried  her  tears  and 
lay  toying  with  her  book  and  sadly  putting  into  thought 
a  thing  she  had  never  more  than  felt  before :  that  what 
ever  she  might  wisely  or  unwisely  do  with  it,  she 
held  in  her  nature  a  sacred  gift  of  passion  ;  that  life,  her 
life,  could  never  bloom  in  full  joy  and  glory  shut  out 
from  wifehood  and  motherhood,  and  that  the  idlest  self- 
deceit  she  could  attempt  would  be  to  say  she  need  not 
marry.  Suddenly  she  started  and  then  lay  stiller  than 
before.  She  had  found  the  long-sought  explanation  of 
her  mother's  tardy  marriage — neither  a  controlling  nor 
a  controlled  passion,  but  the  reasoning  despair  of  famish- 
•  ing  affections.  Barbara  let  her  face  sink  into  the  grass 


MY  GOOD  GRACIOUS,  MISS  BARB  441 

and  wept  again  for  the  dear  lost  one  with  a  new  rever 
ence  and  compassion.  She  was  pressing  her  brow  hard 
against  the  earth  when  there  came  from  the  far  end  of 
the  meadow  two  clear,  glad  notes  of  nature's  voice,  that 
entered  her  soul  like  a  call  from  the  pastures  of  Rose- 
mont,  a  missing  rhyme  sent  to  make  good  the  failing 
poetry  of  love's  declining  day.  She  sprang  to  the  top 
of  the  rise  with  her  open  hand  to  her  hat-brim,  the  dew 
still  in  her  lashes,  her  lips  parted  fondly,  and  her  ear 
waiting  to  hear  again — the  whistle  of  the  quail.  Many 
a  day  in  those  sunny  springtimes  when  she  still  ran  wild 
with  Johanna  had  she  held  taunting  parley  with  those 
two  crystal  love-notes,  and  now  she  straightened  to  her 
best  height,  pursed  her  lips,  whistled  back  the  brave 
octave,  and  listened  again.  A  distant  cowbell  tinkled 
from  some  willows  in  another  meadow  across  the  river, 
a  breeze  moved  audibly  by,  and  then  the  answer  came. 
"  Bob — Bob  White  ?  "  it  inquired  from  the  top  of  a 
pine-covered  bluff,  round  which  the  stream  swept  down 
in  bowlder-strewn  rapids  to  its  smoother  course  between 
the  two  meadows.  It  may  be  the  name  was  not  just 
that,  but  it  was  certainly  two  monosyllables!  The 
listener  stepped  quickly  to  the  nearest  bush,  answered 
a«-ain,  and  becran  to  move  warily  from  cover  to  cover  in 

O  O  •  */ 

the  direction  of  the  call.  Once  she  delayed  her  response. 
A  man  and  wife  with  three  or  four  children,  loitering 
down  the  river  bank,  passed  so  close  to  her  as  to  be 
startled  when  at  last  they  saw  her,  although  she  was 
merely  sitting  at  the  roots  of  a  great  tree  deeply  ab 
sorbed  in  a  book.  A  few  steps  farther  put  a  slight  ridge 
and  a  clump  of  bushes  between  the  couple  and  the  stu- 


442  JOIIX  MA  R  C/7,  SO  U  TIIERNER 

dent ;  and  the  man,  glancing  back,  had  just  noticed  it, 
when — 

"  Hear  that  quail !  "  he  exclaimed,  and  stopped  his 
wife  with  a  touch. 

"  What  of  it  ? "  asked  the  helpmate,  who  was  stoop- 
shouldered. 

"  Why,  we  must  have  passed  in  a  few  feet  of  it !  It's 
right  there  where  we  saw  that  girl !  " 

The  woman's  voice  took  on  an  added  dreariness  as 
she  replied :  "  We  might  'a'  seen  it  if  you  hadn't  been 
so  taken  up  with  the  girl.  James,  come  back !  you 
know  'tain't  that  bird  you're  peekin'  after.  O  land  o' 
love !  men  air  sich  fools  !  " 

The  man  found  neither  girl  nor  quail ;  the  grassy 
seat  beneath  the  tree  was  empty.  But  just  as  he  was 
rejoining  his  partner — "  Hark  !  "  he  said ;  "  there  he  is 
again,  farther  up  the  river.  Now  if  we  listen  like's  not 
we'll  hear  another  fellow  answer  him.  Many's  the  time 
I've  lain  in  the  grass  and  called  one  of  them  right  up. 
There !  that  was  the  answering  challenge,  away  off  yon 
der  between  here  and  that  hill  with  the  pines  on  it. 
There's  going  to  be  a  beautiful  little  fight  when  those 
two  birds  meet,  and  that  college  girl's  going  to  see  it. 
I  wish  I —  There's  the  other  one  again  ;  they  get  closer 
each  time !  Didn't  you  hear  it  ?  " 

The  wife  replied,  mainly  to  herself,  that  she  did  not ; 
that  if  he  had  her  backache  he  wouldn't  hear  a  brass 
band,  and  that  her  next  walk  would  be  by  herself. 

The  partner  did  not  venture  to  look  back  after  that, 
but  as  they  sauntered  on,  rarely  speaking  except 
when  the  mother  rebuked  the  children,  he  listened 


MY  GOOD  GRACIOUS,  MISS  BARB  443 

eagerly,  and  after  a  silence  of  unaccountable  length, 
finally  beard  the  two  calls  once  more,  up  near  the  rapids 
and  very  close  to  each  other.  He  dared  not  prick  his 
ears,  but  while  he  agreed  with  his  wife  that  if  they  were 
ever  going  home  at  all  it  was  time  they  were  about  it, 
be  could  not  but  think  the  outcome  of  a  man's  life 
depends  largely  on  the  sort  of  girl  be  gets. 

At  the  upper  end  of  the  meadow,  meantime,  Barbara 
Garnet,  with  "  Herrick  "  in  one  band  and  her  hat  pressed 
against  the  back  of  her  skirts  in  the  other,  was  bending  and 
peering  round  the  trunk  of  an  elm  draped  to  the  ground 
in  flounces  of  its  own  green.  The  last  response  to  ber 
whistle  had  seemed  to  come  from  a  spot  so  close  in  front 
of  her  that  she  feared  to  risk  another  step,  and  yet,  peep 
and  pry  as  she  might,  she  could  neither  spy  out  nor 
nearer  decoy  the  cunning  challenger.  In  a  sense  of 
delinquency  she  noted  the  sky  showing  yellow  and  red 
through  the  hill-top  pines,  and  seeing  she  must  make 
short  end  of  ber  play,  prepared  to  rush  out  upon  the 
rogue  and  have  an  old-time  laugh  at  bis  pretty  panic. 
So ! — one  for  the  money,  two  for  the  show,  three  to 
make  ready,  and  four  for  to — "  Ha,  ha,  ba !  " — 

"  Good  gracious  alive  !  "  exclaimed  the  quail,  leaping 
from  his  back  to  his  feet,  and  standing  a  fathom  tall 
before  the  gasping,  half-sinking  girl.  "  Good  gra' — 
why — why,  my  good  gracious,  Miss  Barb  !  why — why, 
my  good  gracious !  "  insisted  John  March. 


444      JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 


LXXI1I. 

IMMEDIATELY    AFTER    CHAPEL 

THERE  was  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  in  the  house  of 
the  three  sisters  that  evening.  The  widow  asked  March 
to  stay  to  tea,  and  when  he  opened  his  mouth  to  decline, 
the  wrong  word  fell  out  and  he  accepted.  He  confided 
to  Barbara  his  fear  that  in  so  doing  he  had  blundered, 
but  she  softly  scouted  the  idea,  and  with  a  delicious 
reproachfulness  in  her  murmur,  "  wondered  if  he  sup 
posed  they  " — etc. 

At  table  he  sat  next  to  her,  in  the  seat  the  sisters  had 
intended  for  Henry  Fair.  Neither  Miss  Garnet  nor 
Mr.  March  gave  the  other's  proximity  more  than  its 
due  recognition ;  they  talked  with  almost  everyone 
about  almost  everything,  and  as  far  as  they  knew  said 
and  did  nothing  to  betray  the  fact  that  they  were  as 
happy  as  Psyche  in  a  swing  with  Cupid  to  push  and 
run  under. 

Nobody  went  to  evening  service.  They  sang  hymns 
at  the  piano,  selecting  oftenest  those  which  made  best 
display  of  Miss  Garnet's  and  Mr.  March's  voices.  Hers 
was  only  mezzo-soprano  and  not  brilliant,  but  Mr. 
March  and  a  very  short  college  girl,  conversing  for  a 
moment  aside,  agreed  that  it  was  "  singularly  winsome." 
Another  college  girl,  very  tall,  whispered  Barbara  that 
his  was  a  "  superb  barrytone !  "  The  young  man 
entered  deeper  and  deeper  every  moment  into  the  esteem 
of  the  househould,  and  they  into  his.  The  very  best  of 


IM MEDIA  TEL  Y  AFTER  CHAPEL  445 

the  evening  came  last,  when,  at  the  widow's  request,  the 
two  Southerners  sang,  without  the  instrument,  a  hymn 
or  two  of  the  Dixie  mountaineers :  "  To  play  on  the 
golden  harp "  and  "  Where  there's  no  more  stormy 
clouds  arising."  Being  further  urged  for  a  negro  hymn, 
John  began  "  Bow  low  a  little  bit  longer,"  which  Barbara, 
with  a  thrill  of  recollection  and  an  involuntary  gesture 
of  pain,  said  she  couldn't  sing,  and  they  gave  another 
instead,  one  of  the  best,  and  presently  had  the  whole 
company  joining  in  the  clarion  refrain  of  "  O  Canaan  ! 
bright  Canaan ! "  Barbara  heard  her  college  mates 
still  singing  it  in  their  rooms  on  either  side  of  her  after 
she  had  said  her  prayers  with  her  cheek  on  John 
March's  photograph. 

To  her  painful  surprise  when  she  awoke  next  day  she 
found  herself  in  a  downcast  mood.  She  could  not  even 
account  for  the  blissful  frame  in  which  she  had  gone  to 
bed.  She  had  not  forgotten  one  word  or  tone  of  all 
John  March  had  said  to  her  while  carried  away  from 
his  fine  resolution  by  the  wave  of  ecstasy  which  followed 
their  unexpected  meeting,  but  the  sunset  light,  their 
thrilling  significances,  were  totally  gone  from  them. 
Across  each  utterance  some  qualifying  word  or  clause, 
quite  overlooked  till  now,  cast  its  morning  shadow. 
Xot  so  much  as  one  fond  ejaculation  of  his  impulsive 
lips  last  evening  but  she  could  explain  away  this 
morning,  and  she  felt  a  dull,  half-guilty  distress  in  the 
fear  that  her  blissful  silences  had  embarrassed  him  into 
letting  several  things  imply  more  than  he  intended. 
Before  she  was  quite  dressed  one  of  her  fellow-students 
came  in  with  an  anguished  face  to  show  what  a 


446  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

fatal  eiror  she  had  made  in  the  purchase  of  some 
ribbons. 

Barbara  held  them  first  in  one  light  and  then  in 
another,  and  at  length  shook  her  head  over  them  in 
piteous  despair  and  asked  : 

"  How  could  you  so  utterly  mistake  both  color  and 
quality  ?  " 

"  Why,  my  dear,  I  bought  them  by  lamplight !  and, 
besides,  it  was  an  auction  and  I  was  excited." 

"Yes,"  said  Barbara,  and  took  a  long  breath.  "I 
know  how  that  is." 

Down  in  town  two  commercial  travelers,  one  of 
whom  we  have  met  before,  took  an  after-breakfast 
saunter. 

"  She  was  coming,"  said  the  one  we  remember,  "  to 
New  England.  I  didn't  know  where  or  for  what,  and 
I  don't  know  yet ;  but  when  my  house  said,  '  Old  boy, 
we'd  like  to  promote  you,  just  say  what  you  want !  ' 
says  I,  '  Let  the  salary  stand  as  it  is,  only  change  my 
district ;  gimme  New  England ! ' ' 

"  That's  the  college,"  he  continued,  as  they  came  up 
into  Elm  Street.  "  Those  are  the  students,  just  coming 
out  of  the  chapel :  '  sweet  girl  graduates,'  as  Shakes 
peare  calls  them." 

He  clutched  his  companion's  arm.  Their  eyes  rested 
on  one  of  the  dispersing  throng,  who  came  last  and 
alone,  with  a  slow  step  and  manifestly  under  some  bur 
densome  preoccupation,  through  the  high  iron  gateway 
of  the  campus.  She  passed  them  with  drooping  eye 
lashes  and  walked  in  the  same  tardy  pace  before  them. 


IM MEDIA  TEL  Y  AFTER  CHAPEL  447 

Presently  she  turned  from  the  sidewalk,  crossed  a  small 
grassplot,  and  stood  on  the  doorstep  with  her  hand  on 
the  latch  while  they  went  by. 

"Her?  "said  the  one  who  thought  he  had  quoted 
Shakespeare,  "  of  course  it's  her ;  who  else  could  it  be  ? 
Ah,  hram  !  '  so  near  and  yet  so  far  ! '  Tom,  I  believe 
in  heaven  when  I  look  at  that  girl — heaven  and  holi 
ness  !  I  read  Taylor's  '  Holy  Living '  when  a  boy !  " 

Presently  they  returned  and  passed  again.  She  was 
still  standing  at  the  door.  A  few  steps  away  the 
speaker  looked  over  his  shoulder  and  moaned : 

"  Not  a  glimpse  of  me  does  she  get !  There,  she's 
gone  in ;  but  surc's  you  live  she  didn't  want  to !  " 
They  walked  on.  In  front  of  their  hotel  he  clutched 
his  companion  again.  A  young  man  of  commanding 
figure  stood  near,  deeply  immersed  in  a  telegram.  The 
drummer  whispered  an  oath  of  surprise. 

"  That's  him  now !  the  young  millionaire  she  reject 
ed  on  the  trip  we  all  made  together !  What's  he  here 
for  ? — George !  he  looks  as  worried  as  her !  " 

"  How  do  you  know  she  rejected  him  ?  " 

"  How  do —  Now,  look  here  !  If  I  didn't  know  it 
do  you  s'pose  I'd  say  so?  Well,  then!  Come,  I'll 
introduce  you  to  him —  O  he's  all  right !  he's  just  as 
white  and  modest  as  either  of  us  ;  come  on  !  "  March 
proved  himself  both  modest  and  white,  and  as  he  walked 
away, 

"This's  a  stra-a-ange  world !  "  moralized  the  commer 
cial  man.  "  'Tain't  him  I'm  thinking  of,  it's  her ! 
She's  in  trouble,  Tom ;  in  trouble.  And  who  knows 
but  what,  for  some  mysterious  reason,  I  may  be  the 


448  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

only  one  on  earth  who  can — 0  Lord  ! — Look  here ;  I'm 
not  goin'  to  do  any  business  to-day ;  I'm  not  goin'  to  be 
fit ;  you  needn't  be  surprised  if  you  hear  to-night  that 
I've  gone  off  on  a  drunk." 

Meantime  Barbara  had  lifted  the  latch  and  gone  in. 
No  hat  was  on  the  rack,  but  when  she  turned  into  the 
parlor  a  sickness  came  to  her  heart  as  she  smiled  and 
said  good-morning  to  Henry  Fair.  He,  too,  smiled,  but 
she  fancied  he  was  pale. 

They  mentioned  the  weather,  which  was  quite  pleas 
ant  enough.  Fair  said  the  factories  that  used  water- 

O 

power  would  be  glad  of  rain,  and  Barbara  seemed  inter 
ested,  but  when  he  paused  she  asked,  in  the  measured 
tone  he  liked  so  well : 

"  Who  do  you  think  took  us  all  by  surprise  and  spent 
last  evening  with  us  ?  " 

Fair's  reply  came  tardily  and  was  disguised  as  a 
playful  guess.  "  Mister — " 

"Yes—" 

He  sobered.  "  March  !  "  he  softly  exclaimed,  and  let 
his  gaze  rest  long  on  the  floor.  "  I  thought — really  I 
thought  Mr.  March  was  in  New  York." 

"  So  did  we  all,"  was  the  response,  and  both  laughed, 
without  knowing  just  why. 

"  He  ought  to  have  had  a  delightful  time,"  said  Fair. 

Barbara  meditated  pleasedly.  "Mr.  March  always 
lets  one  know7  what  kind  of  time  he's  having,  and  I 
never  saw  him  more  per-fect-ly  sat-is-fied,"  she  said,  and 
allowed  her  silence  to  continue  so  long  and  with  such 
manifest  significance  that  at  length  the  suitor's  low 
voice  asked : 


IMMEDIATELY  AFTER  CHAPEL  449 

"Am  I  to  understand  that  that  visit  alters  my  case?  " 
"No,"  responded  Barbara,  but  without  even  a  look 
of  surprise.  "  I'm  afraid,  Mr.  Fair,  that  you'll  think 
me  a  rather  daring  girl,  but  I  want  you  to  be  assured 
that  I  know  of  no  one  whose  visit  can  alter — that." 
She  lifted  her  eyes  bravely  to  his,  but  they  filled.  "  As 
for  Mr.  March,"  she  continued,  and  the  same  amuse 
ment  gleamed  in  them  which  so  often  attended  her 
mention  of  him,  "  there's  always  been  a  perfect  under 
standing  between  us.  We're  the  very  best  of  friends, 
but  no  one  knows  better  than  he  does  that  we  can  never 
be  more,  though  I  don't  see  why  we  need  ever  be 
less." 

"  I  should  call  that  hard  terms,  for  myself,"  said 
Fair  ;  "  I  hope —  And  there  he  stopped. 

"  Mr.  Fair,"  the  girl  began,  was  still,  and  then — "  O 
Mr.  Fair,  I  know  what  to  say,  but  I  don't  know  how 
to  say  it !  I  admit  everything.  All  the  good  reasons 
are  on  your  side.  And  yet  if  I  am  to  answer  you 
now —  She  ceased.  Her  voice  had  not  faltered,  but 
her  head  drooped  and  he  saw  one  tear  follow  quickly 
after  another  and  fall  upon  her  hands. 

"  Why,  you  need  not  answer  now,"  he  tenderly  said. 
"  I  told  you  I  would  wait." 

"  O  Mr.  Fair,  no,  no  !  You  have  every  right  to  be 
answered  now,  and  I  have  no  right  to  delay  beyond 
your  wish.  Only,  I  believe  also  that,  matters  standing 
as  they  do,  you  have  a  perfect  right  to  wait  for  a  later 
answer  from  me  if  you  choose.  I  can  only  beg  you 
will  not.  O  you  who  are  so  rational  and  brave  and 
strong  with  yourself,  you  who  know  so  Avell  that  a 


450      JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

man's  whole  fate  cannot  be  wrapped  up  in  one  girl  un 
less  he  weakly  chooses  it  so,  take  your  answer  now !  I 
don't  believe  I  can  ever  look  upon  you — your  offer — 
differently.  Mr.  Fair,  there's  one  thing  it  lacks  which 
I  think  even  you  overlook." 

"What  is  that?" 

"  It — I — I  don't  know  any  one  word  to  describe  it, 
unless  it  is  turn-out-well-a-bil-i-ty." 

Fair  started  with  astonishment,  and  the  tears  leaped 
again  to  her  eyes  as  she  laughed,  and  with  new  distress 
said  :  "  It  isn't — it — O  Mr.  Fair,  don't  you  know  what 
I  mean  ?  It  doesn't  make  good  poetry !  As  you 
would  say,  it's  not  good  art.  You  may  think  me 
'fresh,'  as  the  girls  say,  and  fantastical,  but  I  can't 
help  believing  that  in  a  matter  like  this  there's  some 
thing  wrong — some  essential  wanting — in  whatever's 
not  good — good " 

"  Romance  ?  "  asked  Fair ;  "  do  you  think  the  fact 
that  a  thing  is  good  romance 

"  No !  O  no,  no,  no !  I  don't  say  being  good  ro 
mance  is  enough  to  commend  it ;  but  I  do  think  not 
being  good  romance  is  enough  to  condemn  it !  Is  that 
so  very  foolish  ?  " 

The  lover  answered  wistfully.  "No.  No."  Then 
very  softly  :  "  Barbara  " — he  waited  till  she  looked  up 
— "  if  this  thing  should  ever  seem  to  you  to  have  be 
come  good  poetry,  might  not  your  answer  be  different  ? " 

Barbara  hesitated.  "  I — you — O — I  only  know  how 
it  seems  now ! " 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Fair,  very  gently.  They  rose 
and  he  took  her  hand,  speaking  again  in  the  same  tone. 


COLLAPSE  OF  AN  UNDERSTANDING       451 

"  You  really  believe  I  have  the  right  to  wait  for  a  later 
answer?" 

Her  head  drooped.  "The  right?"  she  murmured, 
"  yes — the  right " 

"  So  also  do  I.     I  shall  wait.     Good- by." 

She  raised  her  glance,  her  voice  failed  to  a  whisper. 
"  Good-by." 

Gaze  to  gaze,  one  stood,  and  the  other,  with  reluctant 
step,  backed  away ;  and  at  the  last  moment,  with  his 
foot  leaving  the  threshold,  lover  and  maiden  said  again, 
still  gaze  to  gaze : 

"  Good'by." 

"Good-by." 


LXXIV. 

COMPLETE    COLLAPSE    OF    A  PERFECT    UNDERSTANDING 

THE  door  closed  and  Barbara  noiselessly  mounted  the 
stairs.  At  its  top  an  elm-shaded  window  allowed  a 
view  of  some  fifty  yards  or  more  down  the  street,  and  as 
she  reached  it  now  the  pleasantness  of  the  outer  day 
furnished  impulse  enough,  if  there  had  been  no  other, 
for  her  to  glance  out.  She  stopped  sharply,  with  her 
eyes  fixed  where  they  had  fallen.  For  there  stood 
John  March  and  Henry  Fair  in  the  first  bright  elation 
of  their  encounter  busily  exchanging  their  manly 
acknowledgments  and  explanations.  Lost  to  herself  she: 


452  JOHN  MARCH,   SOUTHERNER 

stayed,  an  arm  bent  high  and  a  knuckle  at  her  parted 
teeth,  comparing  the  two  men  and  noting  the  matchless 
bearing  of  her  Southerner.  In  it  she  read  again  for  the 
hundredth  time  all  the  energy  and  intrepidity  which  in 
her  knowledge  it  stood  for ;  his  boyish  openness  and 
simplicity,  his  tender  belief  in  his  mother,  his  high 
hearted  devotion  to  the  fulfilment  of  his  father's  aspi 
rations,  and  the  impetuous  force  and  native  skill  with 
which  at  mortal  risks  and  in  so  short  a  time  he  had 
ranked  himself  among  the  masters  of  public  fortune. 
She  recalled,  as  she  was  prone  to  do,  what  Charlie 
Champion  Lad  once  meditatively  said  to  her  on  seeing 
him  approach  :  "  Here  comes  the  only  man  in  Dixie 
Jeff- Jack  Ravenel's  afraid  of." 

After  an  instant  the.  manner  of  the  two  young  men 
became  more  serious,  and  March  showed  a  yellow  paper 
— "  a  telegram,"  thought  their  on-looker.  "  He's  com 
ing  here,  no  doubt ;  possibly  to  tell  me  its  news ;  more 
likely  just  to  say  good-by  again ;  but  certainly  with 
nothing — nothing — O  nothing  !  to  ask."  For  a  moment 
her  hand  pressed  hard  against  her  lips,  and  then  her 
maiden  self-regard  quietly  but  strenuously  definitely 
rebelled. 

The  telegram  seemed  to  bring  its  readers  grave  disap 
pointment.  March  made  indignant  gestures  in  obvious 
allusion  to  distant  absentees.  Now  they  began  to  move 
apart ;  Fair  stepped  farther  away,  March  drew  nearer 
the  house,  still  making  gestures  as  if  he  might  be  saying 
— Barbara  resentfully  guessed — 

"  You  might  walk  slow ;  I  shan't  stop  more  than  a 
minute ! " 


COLLAPSE  OF  AN  UNDERSTANDING       458 

She  left  the  window  with  silent  speed,  saying,  in  her 
heart,  "  You  needn't !  You  shan't !  " 

As  March  with  clouded  brow  was  lifting  his  hand 
toward  a  tortuous  brass  knocker  the  door  opened  and 
Barbara,  carrying  a  book  and  pencil  in  one  hand,  while 
the  other  held  down  her  hat-brim,  tripped  across  the 
doorstep. 

The  cloud  vanished.     "  Miss  Barb — good-morning  !  " 

"O! — Mr. — March."     Her  manner  so  lacked  both 

surprise  and  pleasure  that  he  colored.     He  had  counted 

on   a  sweet  Southern  handshake,  but  she  kept  hold  of 

the  hat-brim,  let  her  dry  smile  of  inquiry  fade  into  a 

formal  deference,  and  took  comfort  in  his  disconcertion. 

"I  was  just  coming,"  he  said,  "  I — thought  you'd  let 

me  come  back  just  to  say  good-by — but  I  see  you're  on 

your  way  to  a  recitation — I — " 

Her  smile  was  cruel.  "  Why,  my  recitations  are  not 
so  serious  as  that,"  she  drawled.  "  Just  to  say  good-by 
ought  not  to  con-sti-tute  any  se-ri-ous  de-ten-tion." 

John's  heart  sank  like  a  stone.  Scarcely  could  he 
believe  his  senses.  Yet  this  was  she  ;  that  new  queen 
of  his  ambitions  whose  heavenly  friendship  had  lifted 
first  love — boy  love — from  its  grave  and  clad  it  in  the 
shining  white  of  humility  and  abnegation  to  worship 
her  sweet  dignity,  purity,  and  tenderness,  asking  for 
nothing,  not  even  for  hope,  in  return.  This  was  she 
who  at  every  new  encounter  had  opened  to  him  a 
higher  revelation  of  woman's  worth  and  loveliness  than 
the  world  had  ever  shown,  him ;  she  to  whom  he  had 
been  writing  letters  half  last  night  and  all  this  morn 
ing,  tearing  each  to  bits  before  he  had  finished  it  be- 


454  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

cause  he  could  see  no  life  ahead  which  an  unselfish  love 
could  ask  her  to  live,  and  as  he  rent  the  result  of  each 
fresh  effort  hearing  the  voice  of  his  father  saying  to  him 
as  in  childhood  days,  "  I'd  be  proud  faw  you  to  have 
the  kitt'n,  son,  but,  you  know,  she  wouldn't  suit  yo' 
dear  motheh's  high-strung  natu'e.  You  couldn't  ever 
be  happy  with  anything  that  was  a  constant  tawTment 
to  her,  could  you  ?  " 

These  thoughts  filled  but  a  moment,  and  before  the 
lovely  presence  confronting  him  could  fully  note  the 
depth  of  his  quick  distress  a  wave  of  self-condemnation 
brought  what  seemed  to  him  the  answer  of  the  riddle  : 
that  this  was  rightly  she,  the  same  angelic  incarnation 
of  wisdom  and  rectitude,  as  of  gentleness  and  beauty,  to 
whom  in  yesterday's  sunset  hour  of  surprise  and  ecstatic 
yearning  he  had  implied  things  so  contrary  to  their  "  per 
fect  understanding,"  and  who  now,  not  for  herself  self 
ishly,  but  in  the  name  and  defence  of  all  blameless 
womanhood,  wras  punishing  him  for  his  wild  presump 
tion.  O  but  if  she  would  only  accuse  him — here — this 
instant,  so  that  contrition  might  try  its  value !  But 
under  the  shade  of  her  hat  her  eyes  merely  waited  with 
a  beautiful  sort  of  patient  urgency  for  his  parting  wTord. 
The  moment's  silence  seemed  an  hour,  but  no  word  did 
he  find.  One  after  another  almost  came,  but  failed, 
and  at  last,  just  as  he  took  in  his  breath  to  say  he  knew 
not  \vhat — anything  so  it  were  something — he  saw  her 
smile  melt  with  sudden  kindness,  while  her  lips  parted 
for  speech,  and  to  his  immeasurable  confusion  and  terror 
heard  himself  ask  her  with  cheerful  cordiality,  "  Won't 
you  walk  in  ?  " 


COLLAPSE  OF  AX  UXDERSTAXDIXG       455 

It  would  have  been  hard  to  tell  which  of  the  two 
turned  the  redder. 

"  Why,  Mr.  March,  you  in-ti-ma-ted  that  you  had  no 
ti-i-ime !  " 

They  stood  still.  "  Time  and  bad  news  are  about  the 
only  things  I  have  got,  Miss  Barb.  Wrapped  up  in 
your  father's  interests  as  you  are,  I  reckon  I  ought  to 
show  you  this."  He  handed  her  the  telegram  doubled 
small.  "  Let  me  hold  your  book." 

Barbara  unfolded  and  read  the  despatch.  It  was 
from  Springfield,  repeated  at  New  York,  and  notified 
Mr.  John  March  that  owing  to  a  failure  of  Gamble  to 
come  to  terms  with  certain  much  larger  railroad  owners 
for  the  reception  of  his  road  into  their  "  system,"  intelli 
gence  of  which  had  just  reached  them,  it  would  be 
"  useless  for  him,"  March,  "  to  come  up,"  as  there  was 
"  nothing  more  to  say  or  hear."  She  read  it  twice. 
Her  notions  of  its  consequences  were  dim,  but  she  saw 
it  was  a  door  politely  closed  in  his  face  ;  and  yet  she 
lingered  over  it.  There  was  a  bliss  in  these  business 
confidences,  which  each  one  thought  was  her  or  his  own 
exclusive  and  unsuspected  theft,  and  which  was  all  the 
sweeter  for  the  confidences'  practical  worthlessness.  As 
she  looked  up  she  uttered  a  troubled  "  0  !  "  to  find  him 
smiling  unconsciously  into  her  book  where  she  had 
written,  "  I  stole  this  book  from  Barbara  Garnet."  It 
seemed  as  if  fate  were  always  showing  her  very  worst 
sides  to  him  at  the  very  worst  times  !  She  took  the 
volume  with  hurried  thanks  and  returned  the  telegram. 

"  It  would  have  been  better  on  every  account  if  you 
hadn't  come  up  at  all,  wouldn't  it  ? "  she  asked,  bent  on 


456  JOHN  MARCH,   SOUTHERNER 

self-cruelty ;  but  he  accepted  the  cruelty  as  meant  for 
him. 

"Yes,"  he  meekly  replied.  "I — I  reckon  it  would." 
Then  more  bravely :  "  I've  got  to  give  up  here  and 
try  the  West.  Your  father's  advised  it  strongly  these 
last  three  weeks." 

"  Has  he  ?  "  she  pensively  asked.  Here  was  a  new 
vexation.  Obviously  March,  in  writing  him,  had  men 
tioned  the  rapid  and  happy  growth  of  their  acquaint 
ance  ! 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  betraying  fresh  pain  under  an 
effort  to  speak  lightly.  "  It  may  be  a  right  smart  while 
before  I  see  you  again,  Miss  Barb.  I  take  the  first  ex 
press  to  Chicago,  and  next  month  I  sail  for  Europe 
to " 

"  Why,  Mr.  March !  "  said  Barbara  with  a  nervous 
laugh. 

"  Yes,"  responded  John  once  more,  thinking  that  if 
she  was  going  to  treat  the  thing  as  a  joke  he  had  better 
do  the  same,  "  immigrants  for  Widewood  have  got  to  be 
got,  and  they're  not  to  be  got  on  this  side  the  big- 
water." 

"  Why,  Mr.  March  !  " — her  laugh  grew — "  How  long 
shall  you  stay  ?  " 

"  Stay  !  Gracious  knows  !  I  must  just  stay  till  I  get 
them  ! — as  your  father  says." 

"  Why,  Mr.  March !  When  did—"  the  question 
er's  eyes  dropped  sedately  to  the  ground — "  when  did 
you  decide  to  go  ?  Since — since — yesterday  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  was  !  "  The  answer  came  as  though  it  were 
a  whole  heart-load. 


COLLAPSE  OF  AN  UNDERSTANDING       457 

The  maiden's  color  rose,  but  she  lifted  her  quiet, 
characteristic  gaze  to  his  and  said,  "  You're  glad  you're 
going,  are  you  not  ?  " 

"O — I — why,  yes!  If  I'm  not  I  know  I  ought  to 
be !  To  see  Europe  and  all  that  is  great,  of  course. 
It's  beyond  my  dreams.  And 'yet  I  know  it  really  isn't 
as  much  what  I'm  going  to  as  what  I'm  going  from 
that  I  ought  to — to  be  g-glad  of!  I  hope  I'll  come 
back  with  a  little  more  sense.  I'm  going  to  try.  I 
promise  you,  Miss  Barb.  It's  only  right  I  should 
promise — you  !  " 

"  Why,  Mr.  Mar — "  Her  voice  was  low,  but  her 
color  increased. 

"  Miss  Barb — O  Miss  Barb,  I  didn't  come  just  to  say 
good-by.  I  hope  I  know  what  I  owe  you  better  than 
that.  I — Miss  Barb,  I  came  to  acknowledge  that  I  said 
too  much  yesterday  ! — and  to — ask  your  pardon." 

Barbara  was  crimson.  "Mr.  March  !  "  she  said,  half 
choking,  "  as  long  as  I  was  simple  enough  to  let  it  pass 
unrebuked  you  might  at  least  have  spared  me  your 
apologies !  No,  I  can't  stay !  No,  not  one  instant ! 
Those  girls  are  coming  to  speak  to  me — that  man  "- 
it  was  the  drummer — "  wants  to  speak  to  you.  Good- 
by." 

Their  intruders  were  upon  them.  John  could  only 
give  a  heart-broken  look  as  she  faltered  an  instant  in 
the  open  door.  For  reply  she  called  buck,  in  poor 
mockery  of  a  sprightly  tone  :  "  I  hope  you'll  have  ever 
so  pleasant  a  voyage !  "  and  shut  the  door. 

So  it  goes  with  all  of  us  through  all  the  ungraceful, 
inartistic  realisms  of  our  lives ;  the  high  poetry  is  ever 


458  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

there,  the  kingdom  of  romance  is  at  hand ;  the  only 
trouble  is  to  find  the  rhymes — O !  if  we  could  only  find 
the  rhymes! 


LXXV. 
A  YEAR'S  VICISSITUDES 

IT  was  during  the  year  spent  by  John  March  in 
Europe  that  Suez  first  began  to  be  so  widely  famous. 
It  was  then,  too,  that  the  Suez  Courier  emerged  into 
universal  notice.  The  average  newspaper  reader,  from 
Maine  to  Oregon,  spoke  familiarly  of  Colonel  Ravenel 
as  the  writer  of  its  much-quoted  leaders ;  a  fact  which 
gave  no  little  disgust  to  Garnet,  their  author. 

Ravenel  never  let  his  paper  theorize  on  the  causes  of 
Suez's  renown  or  the  Courier's  vogue. 

"  It's  the  luck  of  the  times,"  he  said,  and  pleasantly 
smiled  to  see  the  nation's  eyes  turned  on  Dixie  and  her 
near  sisters,  hardly  in  faith,  yet  with  a  certain  highly 
commercial  tope  and  charity.  The  lighting  of  every 
new  coke  furnace,  the  setting  fire  to  any  local  rubbish- 
heap  of  dead  traditions,  seemed  just  then  to  Northern 
longings  the  blush  of  a  new  economic  and  political 
dawn  over  the  whole  South. 

"  You  say  you're  going  South  ?  Well,  now  if  you 
want  to  see  a  very  small  but  most  encouraging  example 
of  the  changes  going  on  down  there,  just  stop  over  a  day 


A    YEAR'S  VICISSITUDES  459 

in  Suez  !  "  Such  remarks  were  common — in  the  clubs 
— in  the  cars. 

"  Now,  for  instance,  Suez !  I  know  something  of  Suez 
myself."  So  said  a  certain  railway  passenger  one  day 
when  this  fame  had  entered  its  second  year  and  the 
more  knowing  journals  had  begun  to  neglect  it.  "  I  was 
an  officer  in  the  Union  army  and  was  left  down  there  on 
duty  after  the  surrender  a  short  while ;  then  I  went  out 
"West  and  fought  Indians.  But  Suez — I  pledge  you  my 
word  I  wouldn't  'a'  given  a  horseshoe-nail  for  the  whole 
layout !  Now  ! — well,  you'd  e'en  a'most  think  you  was 
in  a  Western  town  !  The  way  they're  a  slappin'  money, 
b'  Jinks,  into  improvements  and  enterprises — quarries, 
roads,  bridges,  schools,  mills — 'twould  make  a  West 
ern  town's  head  swim !  " 

"What  kind  of  mills?"  asked  his  listener,  a  young 
man,  but  careworn. 

"  O,  eh,  saw-mills — tanbark  mills — to  start  with. 
Was  you  ever  there  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I — before  the  changes  you  speak  of  I ' 

"  Before !  Hoh  !  then  you've  never  seen  Lover's 
Leap  coal  mine,  or  Bridal  Veil  coal  mine,  or  Sleeping 
Giant  iron  mine,  or  Devil's  Garden  coke  furnaces ! 
They're  putting  up  smelting  works  right  opposite  the 
steamboat  landing !  You  say  you're  going  South — -just 
stop  over  a  day  in  Suez.  It'll  pay  you !  You  could 
write  it  up  ! — call  it  '  What  a  man  just  back  fin 
Europe  saw  in  Dixie ' — only,  you  don't  want  to  wave 
the  Bloody  Shirt,  and  don't  forget  we're  dead  tired 
hearing  about  the  '  illiterate  South.'  /  say,  let  us  have 
peace ;  my  son's  in  love  with  a  Southern  girl !  Why,  at 


460  JOHN  MARCH,   SOUTHERNER 

Suez  you'll  see  school-houses  only  five  miles  apart,  from 
Wildcat  Ridge — where  the  niggers  and  mountaineers 
had  that  skirmish  last  fall — clean  down  to  Leggetts- 
town !  School-houses,  why," — the  speaker  chuckled  at 
what  was  coming — "  one  of  'em  stands  on  the  very  spot 
where  in  '65  I  found  a  little  freckled  boy  trying  to  poke 
a  rabbit  out  of  a  log  with  an  old  bayon ' 

"No  !  "  exclaimed  the  carewrorn  listener,  in  one  smile 
from  his  hat  to  his  handsome  boots. 

He  would  have  said  more,  but  the  story-teller  lifted  a 
finger  to  intimate  that  the  bayonet  was  not  the  main 
point — there  was  better  laughing  ahead.  "  Handsome 
little  chap  he  wras — brave  eyes — sweet  mouth.  Thinks 
I  right  there,  'This's  going  to  be  somebody  some 
day.'  He  reminded  me  of  my  own  son  at  home. 
Well,  he  clum  up  behind  my  saddle  and  rode  with 
me  to  the  edge  of  Suez,  where  ^we  met  his  father 
W7ith  a  team  of  mules  and  a  wagon  of  provisions.  Talk 
about  the  Old  South,  I'll  say  this :  I  never  see  so  fine  a 
gentlemen  look  so  teckincjly  poor.  Hold  up,  let  me 
— now,  let  me — -just  wait  till  I  tell  you.  That  little  rat 
— if  it  hadn't  been  for  that  little  barefooted  rat  with  his 
scalp-lock  a-stickin'  up  through  a  tear  in  his  hat,  most 
likely  you'd  never  so  much  as  heard — of  Suez !  For 
that  little  chap  was  John  March ! " 

The  speaker  clapped  his  hands  upon  his  knees, 
opened  his  mouth,  and  waited  for  his  hearer's  laughter 
and  wonder ;  but  the  hearer  merely  smiled,  and  with  a 
queer  look  of  frolic  in  the  depths  of  his  handsome  eyes, 
asked, 

"  How  lately  were  you  in  Suez  ?  " 


A    YEAR'S   VICISSITUDES  461 

"  Me  ?  O — not  since  '65  ;  but  ray  son's  a  commercial 
tourist — rattling  smart  fellow — you've  probably  met  him 
— I  never  see  anybody  that  hadn't — last  year  he  was  in 
New  England — this  year  he's  tryin'  Dixie.  He  sells 
this  celebrated  '  Hoptonica '  for  the  great  Cincinnati 
house  of  Pretzels  &  Bier.  Funny  thing — he's  been  mis 
taken  for  John  March.  A  young  lady — Southern  girl 
— up  in  New  England  about  a  year  ago — it  was  just  for 
an  instant — 0  of  course — Must  you  go?  Well,  look 
here !  Try  to  stop  over  a  day  in  Suez — That's  right  ; 
it'll  pay  you  !  " 

The  two  travelers  parted.  The  Union  veteran  went 
on  westward,  while  the  other — March  by  name — John 
March — was  ticketed,  of  course,  for  Suez. 

Some  ten  days  before,  in  London,  having  just  ended 
a  four  weeks'  circuit  through  a  region  of  the  Continent 
where  news  of  Suez  was  even  scarcer  than  emigrants  for 
Widewood,  he  had,  to  his  astonishment,  met  Proudfit. 
The  colonel  had  just  arrived  across.  He  was  tipsy,  as 
usual,  and  a  sad  wreck,  but  bound  for  Carlsbad,  bright 
in  the  faith  that  when  he  had  stayed  there  two  months 
he  would  go  home  cured  for  life  of  his  "only  bad  habit." 
March  was  troubled,  and  did  not  become  less  so  when 
Proudfit  explained  that  his  presence  was  due  to  the 
"  kind  pressu'  of  Garnet  and  othe's."  He  knew  that 
Garnet,  months  before,  had  swapped  his  Land  Com 
pany  stock  to  Proudfit  for  the  Colonel's  much  better 
stock  in  the  Construction  Company  and  succeeded  him 
as  president  of  the  latter  concern. 

"  As  a  matteh  of  fawm — temporally — du'ing  my  ill 
health,"  said  the  Carlsbad  pilgrim,  adding,  in  an  unfra- 


462      JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

grant  stage-whisper,  that  there  was  a  secret  off-setting 
sale  of  both  stocks  back  again,  the  papers  of  which  were 
in  Mrs.  Proudfit's  custody.  Mrs.  Proudfit  was  not  with 
her  husband ;  she  was  at  home,  in  Blackland. 

John  knew  also  how  nearly  down  to  nothing  the  price 
of  his  own  company's  first-mortgage  bonds  had  declined  ; 
but  the  Colonel's  tidings  of  a  Jater  fate  fell  upon  him 
like  a  thunderbolt.  He  stood  before  his  informant  in 
the  populous  street,  now  too  sick  at  heart  for  speech, 
and  now  throbbing  with  too  resolute  a  resentment  for 
outward  show,  but  drawn  up  rigidly  with  a  scowl  of  in 
dignant  attention  under  his  locks  that  made  him  the 
observed  of  every  quick  eye.  The  matter — not  to  fol 
low  Proudfit  too  closely — was  this  : 

The  Construction  Company,  paid  in  advance,  and  in 
the  Land  Company's  second-mortgage  bonds,  for  its 
many  expensive  and  recklessly  immature  works,  had 
promptly  sold  those  bonds  to  a  multitude  of  ready  tak 
ers  near  and  far,  but  principally  for.  When  the  prom 
ised  inpour  of  millers  and  miners,  manufacturers  and 
operatives,  so  nearly  failed  that  the  Land  Company 
could  not  pay,  nor  half  pay,  the  interest  on  its  first- 
mortgage  bonds  and  they  "  tumbled,"  these  second- 
mortgage  bonds  were,  of  course,  unsalable  at  any  figure. 
The  smallest  child  will  understand  this — and  worse  to 
follow — at  a  glance;  but  if  he  doesn't  he  needn't.  At 
this  point  Ravenel,  who  had  kept  his  paper  very  still, 
"  persuaded  "  Gamble  and  Bulger  to  buy,  at  the  prices 
their  holders  had  paid  for  them,  all  that  smaller  portion 
of  these  second-mortgage  bonds,  as  well  as  all  small  lots 
of  the  Land  Company's  stock,  held  in  the  three  coun- 


A    YZAX'S   VICISSITUDES  4G3 

ties.  "  The  Courier"  he  said,  with  his  effectual  smile, 
"  couldn't  afford  to  see  home  folks  suffer,"  aud  he  pres 
ently  had  them  all  well  out  of  it,  Parson  Tombs  among 
them. 

"  Thank  God !  "  rumbled  March.    "  And  then  what  ? " 

Then  Ravenel,  as  trustee  for  the  three  counties — 
Uncle  Jimmie  Rankin  was  the  other,  but  shrewdly  let 
Jeff-Jack  speak  and  act  for  him — privately  combined 
with  the  Construction  Company,  which,  Proudfit  pathet 
ically  reminded  John,  was  a  loser  by  the  Land  Com 
pany  in  the  discounts  at  which  it  had  sold  that  Com 
pany's  second-mortgage  bonds.  They  went  on  a  still 
hunt  after  the  first-mortgage  bonds,  "  bought,"  said 
Proudfit,  "  the  whole  bilin'  faw  a  song,"  foreclosed  the 
mortgage,  and  at  the  sale  of  the  Land  Company's  assets 
were  the  only  bidders,  except  Senator  Halliday  and 
Captain  Shotwell,  whom  they  easily  outbid. 

"  Right  smart  of  us  suspicioned  those  two  gentlemen 
were  bidding  faw  you,  John." 

March,  who  was  staring  aside  in  fierce  abstraction, 
started.  "I  reckon  not,"  he  said,  and  stared  in  the 
other  direction.  "  So,  then,  AVidewood  and  all  its  costly 
improvements  belong  half  to  the  three  counties  and  half 
to  Garnet's  construe " 

"  John  " — the  Colonel  lifted  his  pallid  hand  with  an 
air  of  amiable  greatness — "  my  construe',  seel  view  play ! 
Not  Garnet's.  / — Proudfit — am  still  the  invisible  head 
of  that  comp'ny.  Garnet  acknowledges  it  privately  to 
me.  He  and  I  have  what  you  may  call  a  per-perfect 
und-und-unde'standing !  " 

"  Perfect  und' — 0  me  !  "   interrupted  March,  with  a 


464  JOHN  MA  R  CSf,  SO  U  THERNER 

broken  laugh  and  a  frown.  Proudfit  liked  his  air  and 
tried  to  reproduce  it,  but  got  his  features  tangled,  rubbed 
his  mouth,  and  closed  his  eyes.  March  stared  into 
vacancy  again. 

The  tippler  interposed  with  moist  emotion.  "  John, 
we're  landless  !  My  plantation  b'longs  t'  my  wife.  I 
can  sympathize  with  you,  John.  As  old  song  says, 
'  we're  landless  !  landless  ! '  We  are  landless,  John.  But 
you  have  price — priceless  'dvant'ge  over  me  in  one 
thing,  vice-president ;  you've  still  got  yo'  motheh  !  " 

"  O  !  "  groaned  March,  blazing  up  and  starting  away  ; 
but  Proudfit  clung. 

"  My  dea'  boy  !  let  me  tell  you,  that  tendeh  little 
motheh's  been  a  perfect  hero  !  When  I  told  her — in— 
in  t-tears — how  sorry  I — and  Garnet — and  all  of  us — 
was, — *  O  Curl  Prou'fit,'  says  she — with  that  ca'm, 
sweet,  dizda-ainful  smile  of  hers,  you  know — '  it's  no  sup- 
prise  to  me ;  it's  what  I've  expected  from  the  begin 
ning.'  " 


LXXVI. 

AGAINST    OVERWHELMING    NUMBERS 

DURING  the  boom  Tom  Hersey's  Swanee  Hotel — re 
paired,  enlarged,  repainted — had  become  Hotel  Swanee. 
At  the  corner  of  the  two  streets  on  which  it  fronted  he 
had  added  a  square  tower  or"  observatory."  But  neither 
guests  nor  "  residenfers  "  had  made  use  of  it  as  he  had 


AGAINST  OVERWHELMING  NUMBERS    465 

designed.  Its  low  top  was  too  high  to  be  reached  with 
that  Southern  ease  wyhich  Northern  soj corners  like,  and 
besides,  you  couldn't  see  more  than  half  the  earth  anyhow 
when  you  got  up  there. 

Early,  therefore,  it  had  been  turned  into  an  airy  bed 
chamber  for  Bulger.  He,  however  was  gone.  He  had 
left  Suez  for  good  and  all  on  the  same  day  on  which 
John  March  arrived  from  abroad,  being  so  advised  to 
do  by  Captains  Champion  and  Shotwell,  who  loved  a 
good  joke  with  a  good  fat  coAvard  to  saddle  it  on,  and 
who  had  got  enough  of  Bulger  on  the  day  of  the  skir 
mish  mentioned  a  page  or  two  back.  The  tower  room  he 
left  came  to  be  looked  upon  as  specially  adapted  for  the 
sick,  and  here,  some  eleven  or  twelve  months  after  the 
wreck  of  the  Three  Counties  Land  and  Improvement 
Company,  Limited,  John  March  lay  on  his  bed  by  night 
and  sat  on  it  by  day,  wasted,  bright-eyed,  and  pale,  with 
a  corded  frown  forever  between  his  brows  save  in  the 
best  moments  of  his  unquiet  sleep. 

On  the  hither  side  of  one  of  the  two  streets  close 
under  him,  his  office — the  old,  first  one,  reopened  on  his 
return — stood  closed,  the  sign  renovated  and  tacked  up 
once  more,  and  the  early  addendum,  Gentleman,  still 
asserting  itself,  firmly  though  modestly,  beneath  the  new 
surface  of  repair.  In  and  from  that  office  he  had,  for 
these  many  months,  waged  a  bloodless  but  aggressive 
and  indomitable  war  on  the  men  who,  he  felt,  had 
robbed,  not  merely  him,  but  his  mother,  and  the  grave 
of  his  father,  under  the  forms  and  cover  of  commerce 
and  law  ;  yet  from  whom  he  had  not  been  able  to  take 
their  outermost  intrenchment — the  slothful  connivance 


466  JOHN  MARCH,   SOUTHERNER 

of  a  community  which  had  let  itself  be  made  a  passive 
sharer  of  their  spoils.  Now,  in  that  office  his  desk  was 
covered  with  ten  days'  dust.  "  If  you  don't  shut  this 
thing  up  straight  off  and  go,  say,  to  Chalybeate  Springs," 
the  doctor  had  one  day  exclaimed,  "  you'll  not  last  half 
through  the  summer."  March  had  answered  with  jesting 
obduracy,  and  two  nights  later  had  fainted  on  the  stairs 
of  Tom  Hersey's  hotel.  For  twenty-four  hours  afterward 
he  had  been  "not  expected  to  live."  During  which 
time  Suez  had  entirely  reconsidered  him — conduct,  char 
acter,  capacity — and  had  given  him,  at  the  expense  of 
his  adversaries,  a  higher  value  and  regard  than  ever, 
and  a  wholly  new  affection.  It  would  have  been  worth 
all  the  apothecary's  arsenic  and  iron  for  someone  just  to 
have  told  him  so. 

A  Suez  physician  once  said  to  me — I  was  struck  with 
the  originality  of  the  remark — that  one  man's  cure  is 
another's  poison.  Kot  even  to  himself  would  March 
confess  that  this  room,  so  specially  adapted  for  the  aver 
age  sick  man,  was  for  him  the  worst  that  could  have 
been  picked  out.  It  showed  him  constantly  all  Suez. 
Poor  little  sweating  and  fanning  Suez,  grown  fat,  and 
t~  already  getting  lean  again  on  the  carcass  of  one  man's 
unsalable  estate ! 

"  Come  here,"  said  Fannie  Ravenel  behind  the  blinds 
of  her  highest  window,  to  one  who  loved  her  still,  but 
rarely  had  time  to  visit  her  now,  "  look.  That's  John 
March's  room.  O  sweet,  how's  he  ever  again  to  match 
himself  to  our  littleness  and  sterility  without  shriveling 
down  to  it  himself?  And  yet  that,  and  not  the  catch 
ing  of  scamps  or  recovery  of  lands,  is  going  to  be  his 


AGAINST  OVERWHELMING  NUMBERS    467 

big  task.  For  I  don't  think  he'll  ever  go  'way  from 
here  ;  he's  just  the  kind  that'll  always  feel  too  many 
obligations  to  stay ;  and  I  think  his  sickness  will  be  a 
blessing  straight  from  God,  to  him  and  to  all  of  us  who 
love  him,  if  it  will  only  give  him  time  to  see  what  his 
true  work  is — God  bless  him !  "  The  two  stood  in 
loose  embrace  looking  opposite  ways,  until  the  speaker 
asked,  "  Don't  you  believe  it?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  the  other,  gently  drawing  her 
away  from  the  window. 

Fannie  yielded  a  step  or  two  and  then  as  gently 
resisted.  "  Sweetheart,"  she  cried,  with  a  melting  gaze, 
"you  don't  suppose — just  because  I  choose  to  remember 
what  he  is  and  what  he  is  suffering — you  can't  imagine — 
0  if  you  mistake  me  I  shall  simply  perish !  " 

"  I  know  you  too  well,  dear,"  caressingly  murmured 
the  guest,  and  they  talked  of  other  things — "  gusset  and 
band  and  seam  " — for  it  was  Saturday  and  there  was  to 
be  a  small  occasion  on  the  morrow.  But  that  same 
night,  long  after  the  house's  last  light  was  out,  the  guest 
said  her  prayers  at  that  window. 

The  windows  of  March's  chamber,  albeit  his  bed's 
head  was  against  the  one  to  the  east,  opened  four  ways. 
The  one  on  the  west  looked  down  over  the  court-house 
square  and  up  the  verdant  avenue  which  became  the 
pike.  Here  on  the  right  stood  the  Courier  building ! 
There  was  Captain  Champion  going  bj  it;  honest 
ex-treasurer  of  the  defunct  Land  Company.  His  modest 
yet  sturdy  self-regard  would  not  even  yet  let  him  see 
that  he  had  been  only  a  cover  for  the  underground 
doublings  of  shrewder  men.  Yonder  was  the  tree  from 


468  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

which  Enos  had  been  shot  by  his  own  brother — who 
was  dead  himself  now,  killed,  with  many  others,  in  that 
"  skirmish "  which  John  could  never  cease  thinking 
that  he,  had  he  but  been  here,  might  have  averted. 
Over  there  wyere  the  two  churches,  and  one  window  of 
Ravenel's  house.  March  had  not  been  in  that  house  a 
fourth  as  many  times  as  he  had  been  prettily  upbraided 
for  not  coming. 

"  Fannie's  grea-atly  cha-anged  !  "  Parson  Tombs  said, 
with  solemn  triumph. 

John  had  dreamily  assented.  The  change  he  had 
noticed  most  was  that  the  old  zest  of  living  was  gone  from 
her  still  beautiful  black  eyes,  and  that  her  freckles  had 
augmented.  He  had  met  her  oftenest  in  church.  She 
had  the  Suez  Sunday-school's  primary  class,  and  more 
than  filled  the  wide  vacancy  caused  by  Miss  Mary 
Salter's  marriage  to  the  other  pastor.  These  two  wives 
had  grown  to  be  close  friends.  On  the  Sunday  to  which 
we  have  alluded  they  had  their  infants  baptized 
together.  Fannie's  was  a  girl  and  did  not  cry.  Jo 
hanna,  in  the  gallery,  did,  when  Father  Tombs,  with 
dripping  hand,  said, 

"  Rose,  I  baptize  thee." 

Tears  had   started  also   in  the  eyes  of  at  least  one 

other :    Fannie's  guest,  as  we  say,  whose  presence  was 

unusual  and   had  not  escaped   remark.     "  The   wonder 

is,"  Miss  Martha  had  said,  "that  she  has  time,  or  any 

:    strength  left,  to  ever  come  in  to  town-church  at  all,  with 

that  whole  overgrown  Rosemont  on  her  hands  the  way 

it  is  !     If  I  had  a  sister  no  older  than  she  is — with  that 

1  look  on  her  face  every  time  she  falls  into  a  study  "- 


A  GA IATS  T  0  VER 1 1  'HELMING  N  UMD  ER  S    4  0 'J 

she    stopped ;    then    sharply — "  I   tell    you,    that   man 
Garnet " — and  stopped  again. 

From  the  tower's  south  window  there  was  a  wide  view 
up  and  down  the  Swauee  and  across  the  bridge,  into 
Blackland.  March  never  looked  that  way  but  he 
found  himself  staring  at  those  unfinished  smelting  works. 
Smart  saplings  were  growing  inside  the  roofless  walls, 
and  you  could  buy  the  whole  plant  for  the  cost  of  its 
brick  and  stone. 

The  north  window  view  hurt  still  worse.  The  middle  ( 
distance  was  dotted  with  half  a  dozen  "follies"  "for 
sale,"  each  with  its  small  bunch  of  workmen's  cottages, 
some  empty,  some  full,  alas !  and  all  treeless  and  grass- 
less  under  the  blazing  sun.  Far  beyond  to  the  right, 
shading  away  from  green  to  blue,  rose  the  hills  of  Wide- 
wood — lost  Widewood ! — hiding  other  "  tied-up  capital " 
and  more  stranded  labor.  For  scattered  through  those 
lovely  forests  were  scores,  hundreds,  of  peasants  from  / 
across  seas,  to  every  separate  one  of  whom  the 
scowling  patient  in  this  room,  with  fierce  tears  perpet 
ually  in  his  throat,  believed  he  owed  explanation  and 
restitution. 

Garnet ! — owned  half  of  Widewood  !  March's  con 
finement  here  dated  from  the  night  when  he  had  at 
length  unearthed  the  well-hid  truth  of  how  the  stately 
Major  had  acquired  it.  No  sooner  had  Eavenel  and 
Garnet  got  the  Land  Company  into  its  living  grave, 
than  Gamble  and  Bulger,  with  Leggett  looming  mys 
teriously  in  their  large  shadows,  forced  the  Construc 
tion  Company  into  liquidation  by  a  kind  demand  up^n 
Mattox,  Crickwater,  and  Pettigrew  for  certain  call 


470  JO fIX  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

loans  of  two  years'  standing,  accepted  in  settlement  their 
shares  of  the  Widewood  lands  wrested  from  the  Land 
Company,  and  then  somehow  privately  induced  Garnet 
to  take  those  cumbersome  assets  off'  their  hands  at  a 
round  cash  price.  That  was  the  day  before  March  had 
got  home  and  Bulger  had  cleared  out.  Gamble  had 
departed  much  more  leisurely.  Whenever  money  was 
at  stake  Gamble  had  the  courage  of  a  bear  with 
whelps.  Whenever  he  said,  "  I  can't  afford  to  stay 
here,"  it  meant  that  his  milk-pail  was  full  and  the 
cow  empty.  This  time  it  meant  he  had,  as  Shotwell 
put  it,  "broken  the  record  of  the  three  counties — 
pulled  the  wool  over  Jeff-Jack's  eyes ;  "  for  he  had 
sold  his  railroad  to  a  system  hostile  to  the  fortunes 
of  Suez. 

The  other  half  of  Wide  wood  was  public  domain. 

"  Thank  Heaven  for  that !  "  said  March,  lying 
dressed  on  his  bed. 

"  Suez  thanks  Mr.  Ravenel,"  melodiously  responded 
his  mother.  Parson  Tombs  had  brought  her  up  here 
and  slipped  out  again  on  creaking  tiptoe. 

"  Why,  mother,  it  was  I  made  it  so  in  my  original 
plan ! " 

"  O  my  beloved  boy,  it  was  in  Mr.  Ravenel's  orig 
inal  plan  when  he  lent  your  poor  father  the  money  to 
send  you  to  school.  I  have  it  on  good  authority." 

The  son  gave  a  vexed  laugh.  "  0,  as  to  that,  why 
Cornelius  Leggett  suggested  it  when " 

"  John !  forbear !  "  Mrs.  March  was  not  prejudiced. 
She  could  admit  the  name  of  a  colored  person  in  a 
discussion  ;  but  that  miscreant  had  lured  her  trusted 


AGAINST  OVERWHELMING  NUMBERS    471 

Jane  to  the  altar  and  written  back  that  she  was  one  of 
the  best  wives  he  had  had  for  years. 

John  forbore.  He  was  profoundly  distressed,  but 
tried  to  speak  more  lightly.  "  Law !  mother,  one 
reason  urged  by  Major  Garnet  for  our  privately  re 
serving  that  trifling  scrap  of  sixty  acres  on  the  west 
side  of  the  creek  was  so's  to  make  each  half  of  the 
company's  tract  an  even  fifty  thousand  acres,  one  for 
the  three  counties  and  the  other — O !  there's  another 
thing.  I  never  thought  to  tell  you  because  it  was 
hardly  worth  remembering.  On  Major  Garnet's  sug 
gestion,  and  so's  to  never  get  it  mixed  up  with  the 
Company's  lands — you  know  how  carelessly  our  county 
records  are  kept — I  made  a  relinquishment  to  you  of 
my  half  of  your  and  my  joint  interest  in  those  sixty 
acres.  I  never  supposed  I  was  going  to  make  it  one 
day  the  only  piece  of  Widewood  left  you." 

"  Ah  !  "  sighed  the  hearer,  "  half  as  many  dollars 
would  be  far  better  for  a  helpless  widow." 

John  was  scowling  in  another  direction  and  did  not 
see  her  pretty  blush.  His  voice  deepened  with  indig 
nation.  "I'll  give  you  double — right  here — now — 
cash !  " 

"  Will  you  write  the  receipt  for  me  to  sign  ?  "  she 
sweetly  asked. 

He  started  up,  wrote,  paid,  and  smiled  as  he  shut  his 
empty  purse.  His  mother  sighed  in  amiable  pensive- 
ness,  saying,  "  This  is  a  mystery  to  me,  my  son." 

"  No  more  than  it  is  to  me,"  dryly  responded  John, 
angered  by  this  new  sting  from  his  old  knowledge  of 
her  ways.  It  was  her  policy  always  to  mystify  those 


472  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

who  had  the  best  right  to  understand  her.  "  I  shall  try 
to  solve  it,"  he  added. 

"  I  should  rather  not  have  you  speak  of  it  at  once/' 
she  replied,  almost  hurriedly.  "  You'll  know  why  in  a 
few  days."  Her  blush  came  again.  This  time  John 
saw  it  and  marvelled  anew.  He  tossed  himself  back 
on  his  bed,  fevered  with  irritation. 

"  Mother  " — he  fiercely  shifted  his  pillows  and  looked 
at  the  ceiling — "  the  chief  mystery  to  me  is  that  you 
seem  to  care  so  little  for  the  loss  of  our  lands !  " 

"I  thought  you  told  me  that  Major  Garnet  consid 
ered  those  sixty  acres  as  almost  worthless." 

"  I  believe  he  does." 

Her  voice  became  faint.  "I  would  gladly  explain, 
son,  if  you  were  only  well  enough  to  hear  me — pa 
tiently." 

He  lay  rigidly  still,  with  every  nerve  aching.  His 
hands,  locked  under  his  head,  grew  tight  as  he  heard 
her  rise  and  draw  near.  He  shut  his  eyes  hard  as  she 
laid  on  his  wrinkling  forehead  a  cold  kiss  moistened 
with  a  tear,  and  melted  from  the  room. 

"Mother!"  he  called,  appeasingly,  as  the  door  was 
closing ;  but  it  clicked  to ;  she  floated  down  the  stairs. 
He  turned  his  face  into  the  pillow  and  clenched  his 
hands.  By  and  by  he  turned  again  and  exclaimed,  as 
from  some  long  train  of  thought,  " '  Better  off  without 
AYidewood  than  with  it/  am  I  ?  On  my  soul !  I  begin 
to  believe  it.  But  if  you  can  see  that  so  clearly,  O  !  my 
poor  little  unsuspicious  mother,  why  can't  you  even 
now  understand  that  they  were  thieves  and  robbed  us  ? 
Who — who — what — can  have  so  blinded  you  ?  " 


A  GA  L\'S  T   0  VER  WHELMING  N I \MBERS    473 

He  left  the  bed  and  moved  to  his  most  frequent  seat, 
the  north  window.  Thence,  in  the  western  half  of  the 
view,  he  could  see  the  three  counties'  "  mother  of  learn 
ing  and  useful  arts,"  fair,  large-grown  Rosemont,  glis 
tening  on  her  green  hills  in  each  day's  setting  sun,  a 
lovely  frontispiece  to  the  ever-pleasant  story  of  her 
master's  redundant  prosperity.  Her  June  fledglings 
were  but  just  gone  and  she  was  in  the  earliest  days  of 
her  summer  rest.  "  Enlarged  and  superbly  equipped 
and  embellished,"  the  newspapers  said  of  her  in  lauda 
tory  headlines,  and  it  was  true  that  "  no  expense  had 
been  s;^i:ed."  Not  any  other  institution  in  Dixie 
spread  such  royal  feasts  of  reason  and  information  for 
her  children,  at  lavish  cost  to  herself,  low  price  to  them, 
and  queenly  remuneration  to  the  numerous  members  of 
the  State  Legislature  who  came  to  discourse  on  Agri 
culture,  Mining,  Banking,  Trade,  Journalism,  Juris 
prudence,  Taxation,  and  Government. 

How  envied  was  Garnet !  Gamble  and  Bulger  were 
thrifty  and  successful,  but  Gamble  and  Bulger  had 
tied  and  envy  follows  not  the  fleeing.  Halliday  had 
attained  his  ambition  ;  was  in  the  United  States  Sen 
ate  ;  but  the  boom  had  sent  him  there,  "  regardless  of 
politics,"  to  plead  for  a  deeper  channel  in  the  Swanee,  a 
move  that  was  only  part  of  one  of  Ravenel's  amusing 
"deals,"  whereby  he  had  procured  at  last  the  political 
extinction  of  Cornelius  Leggett.  Moreover,  for  all  the 
old  General's  activities  he  had  kept  himself  poor;  al 
most  as  poor  as  he  was  incorruptible ;  who  could  envy 
him  ?  And  Raveuel ;  Ravenel  was  still  the  arbiter  of 
political  fortune,  but  it  was  part  of  his  unostentatious 


474  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

wisdom  never  to  let  himself  be  envied.  But  Garnet, 
amid  all  this  business  depression  upon  which  March 
looked  down  from  his  sick-room,  wore  envy  on  his 
broad  breast  like  a  decoration.  There  were  spots  of 
tarnish  on  his  heavy  gilding ;  not  merely  the  elder  Miss 
Kinsington,  but  Martha  Salter  as  well,  had  refused  to 
say  good-by  to  Mademoiselle  Eglantine  on  the  eve  of 
her  final  return  to  France ;  Fanny  Ravenel  had,  with 
cutting  playfulness,  asked  Mrs.  Proudfit,  as  that  sister 
was  extolling  the  Major's  vast  public  value,  if  she  did 
not  know  perfectly  well  that  Rosemont  was  a  political 
"  barrel."  And  yet  it  was  Garnet  who  stood  popularly 
as  the  incarnation  of  praiseworthy  success. 

John  March  begrudged  him  none  of  his  triumphs — at 
their  price.  Yet  it  was  before  this  window-picture  his 
heart  sunk  under  the  heaviest  and  cruelest  of  his  exas 
perations.  Other  bafflements  tormented  him ;  here  alone 
stood  the  visible,  beautiful  emblem  of  absolute  discom 
fiture.  For  here  was  the  silent,  lifted  hand  which  for 
bade  him  pursue  his  defrauders.  Follow  their  ma 
noeuvres  as  he  might,  always  somewhere  short  of  the  end 
of  their  windings  he  found  this  man's  fortune  and  repu 
tation  lying  square  across  the  way  like  a  smooth,  new 
fortification  under  a  neutral  flag.  Seven  times  he  had 
halted  before  them  disarmed  and  dumb,  and  turned 
away  with  a  chagrin  that  burnt  his  brain  and  gnawed 
his  very  bones. 

There  came  a  footstep,  a  rap  at  the  door,  and  Parson 
Tombs  entered,  radiant  with  tidings.  "  John !  "  he  be 
gan,  but  his  countenance  and  voice  fell  to  an  anxious 
tenderness ;  "  why,  Brother  March,  I — I  didn't  suspicion 


AGALYST  OVERWHELMING  NUMBERS    475 

you  was  this  po'ly,  seh.  Why,  John,  you  hadn't  ought 
to  try  to  sit  up  until  yo'  bettch  ! " 

"  It  rests  me  to  get  out  of  bed  a  little  while  off  and  on. 
How  are  you,  these  days,  sir?  How's  Mrs.  Tombs?  " 

"  Oh,  we  keep  a-goin',  thank  the  Lawd.  Brother 
March,  I've  got  pow'ful  good  news." 

"  Is  it  something  about  my  mother  ?  She  was  here 
about  an  hour  ago." 

"  Yass,  it  is !  The  minute  she  got  back  to  ow  house 
— and  O,  John,  it  jest  seems  to  me  like  her  livin'  with 
us  ever  since  Widewood  was  divided  up  has  been  a 
plumb  providence  ! — I  says,  s'l,  '  Wha'd  John  say  ? ' 
and  when  she  said  she  hadn't  so  much  as  told  you, 
'cause  you  wa'n't  well  enough,  we  both  of  us,  Mother 
Tombs  and  me,  we  says,  s'l,  '  Why,  the  sicker  he  is  the 
mo'  it'll  help  him !  Besides,  he:s  sho'  to  hear  it ;  the 
ve'y  wiud'll  carry  it ;  which  he  oughtn't  never  to  find  it 
out  in  that  hilta-skilta  wa-ay !  Sister  March,  s'l,  '  let 
me  go  tell  him  ! '  And  s'she,  jestingly,  '  Go — if  you  think 
it's  safe.'  So  here  I  am  !  "  The  old  man  laughed  tim 
orously. 

"  Well  ? "  John  kept  his  hands  in  his  lap,  where 
each  was  trying  to  wrench  the  fingers  off  the  other. 
"What  is  it?" 

"  Why,  John,  the  Lawd  has  provided !  For  one 
thing  and  evm  that  the  smallest,  Sister  March's  Wide- 
wood  lands  air  as  good  as  hers  again !  " 

"  What  has  happened  ?  "  cried  the  pale  youth. 

"O,  John,  the  best  that  ever  could!  What  Mother 
Tombs  and  I  and  the  Sextons  and  the  Coffins  and  the 
Graveses  and  sco'es  o'  lovin'  friends  and  relations  have 


476  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

been  a  hopin'  faw  all  this  year  an'  last !  Sister  March 
has  engaged  her  hand  to  Brother  Garnet !  " 

"  I  think  I'll  lie  down,"  said  John,  beginning  to  rise. 
The  frightened  Parson  clutched  him  awkwardly,  he 
reeled  a  step  or  two,  said,  " Don't — trouble" — and  fell 
across  the  bed  with  a  slam  that  jarred  the  floor.  The 
old  man  moaned  a  helpless  compassion. 

"  It's  nothing,"  said  March,  waving  him  back.  "  Only 
my  foot  slipped."  lie  dragged  himself  to  his  pillow. 
"  Good-by,  sir.  I  prefer — good-by  !  "  He  waved  his 
visitor  to  the  door.  As  it  closed  one  of  his  hands  crept 
under  the  pillow.  There  it  seemed  to  find  and  rest  on 
some  small  thing,  and  then  a  single  throe  wrenched  his 
frame  as  of  an  anguish  beyond  all  tears. 

At  Rosemont,  as  night  was  falling,  Doctor  Coffin, 
March's  physician,  the  same  who  had  attended  him  in 
boyhood  when  he  was  shot,  stood  up  before  the  new  Hose 
of  Rosemont,  in  the  greatly  changed  reception-room 
where  in  former  years  Bonaparte  had  tried  so  persist 
ently  to  cross  the  Alps.  She  had  left  the  room  and 
returned  and  was  speaking  of  Johanna,  as  she  said, 
"  She'll  go  with  you.  Have  your  seat,  Doctor ;  she's 
getting  ready  and  will  be  here  in  a  few  minutes." 

The  Doctor  made  a  glad  gesture.  "  I  know  how  hard 
it  must  be  for  you  to  do  without  her,"  he  said,  "  but  if 
you  can  get  along  somehow  for  three  or  four  days,  why 
— you  know  she's  away  yonder  the  best  nurse  in  the 
three  counties — it'll  make  a  world  of  difference  to  my 
patient." 

"  I  hope  he'll  like  her  ways,"  replied  the  young  mis 
tress.  "  There's  so  much  in  that." 


AGAINST  OVERWHELMING  NUMBERS     477 

"  Don't  fear !  "  laughed  the  Doctor.  "  He  hasn't 
looked  so  pleased  since  he  first  took  sick  as  he  did  when 
I  told  him  I  was  going  to  fetch  her.  By  the  bye,  how 
do  you  sleep  since  I  changed  yo'  medicine  this  last  time  ; 
no  better?  Ain't  yo'  appetite  improved  any?  I  still 
think  the  secret  of  all  yo'  trouble  is  malaria ;  I  haven't 
a  doubt  you  brought  it  with  you  from  the  North !  I 
wish  I  could  find  as  good  an  explanation  of  yo'  father's 
condition. — I  just  declare  it's  an  outrage  on  the  rights  of 
a  plain  old  family  chills-and-fever  doctor,  for  a  lot  of 
you  folks  to  be  havin'  these  here  sneakin'  nerve  and 
brain  things  that  calomel  an'  quinine  can't — O !  here's 
Johanna." 

On  his  way  through  town  again,  with  the  black  maid 
beside  him  in  his  battered  top  buggy,  he  paused  at  the 
Tombscs'  gate,  hailed  by  the  fond  old  Parson.  "You 
haven't  got  her?  Why,  so  you  have! — 'Howdy,  Jo 
hanna,  you're  a  bless'n'  here  to-night/  as  the  hymn  says. 
Doctor,  I  hope  an'  trust  an'  pray  Sister  Proudfit's  at 
tack  won't  turn  out  serious ?  " 

The  Doctor  was  surprised.  "  J  ain't  been  called  to 
her  ;  didn't  know  she  was  sick." 

"  Well,  I  say  !  "  exclaimed  the  Parson.  "  Why,  it's 
all  over  town  that  you  wuz,  and  that  you  found  her  so 
prostrated  with  relaxation  of  the  nerves  that  her  hus 
band  couldn't  hold  her  still !  You've  heard,  of  co'se, 
that  he's  got  back  at  last  ?  Isn't  it  pathetic  ?  I've 
been  talkiu'  about  it  to  Brother  Garnet — you  passed 
him  just  now,  didn't  you  ? — and  as  he  says,  her  hus 
band  goes  off,  a  walkin'  ruin,  to  be  gone  three  months, 
stays  twelve,  and  arrives  back  totally  unexpected  on 


478  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

this  mawnin's  six-o'clock  train,  a-callin'  himself  cu'ud  ! 
Brother  Coffin,  you  don't  believe  that,  do  you?  Why, 
as  Brother  Garnet  says,  the  drinkin'  habit  is  as  much  a 
moral  as  a  physical  sickness,  and  the  man  that  can 
make  common  talk  of  it  in  his  own  case  to  ev'y  Tom, 
Dick,  and  Harry,  evm  down  to  the  niggehs,  ain't  so 
much  as  tetched  the  deepest  root  uv  his  trouble,  much 
less  cu'ud !  Why,  Doctor,  Brother  Garnet  see  him, 
himself !— a-tellin'  that  C'nelius  Leggett ! — and  pulled 
him  away !  Po'  Brother  Garnet !  Johanna,  I  wish, 
betwixt  the  Doctor  an'  you,  you  could  make  him  look 
betteh.  His  load  of  usefulness  is  too  great.  I  declare, 
Brother  Coffin,  he  was  that  tiud  this  evenin'  that  evm 
here,  where  you'd  expect  him  to  seem  fresh  and  happy 
in  his  new  joy,  he  looked  as  if,  if  it  wa'n't  faw  the 
wrong  of  the  thing,  he'd  almost  be  willin'  to  call  upon 
the  rocks  and  the  mountains  to  fall  on  him  and  hide 
him. — But  I  mustn't  detain  you  !  " 

The  physician  drove  on,  and  by  and  by  was  leaving 
directions  with  Johanna  and  her  protectors,  Tom  Hersey 
and  his  wife.  "  And,  Tom,  mind  you,  no  visitors.  It's 
his  own  wish.  Good-night. — O  ! — that  young  Mr.  Fair. 
March  tells  me  he's  expecting  him  any  time  within  the 
next  few  days,  to  help  lay  the  corner-stone  of  this  new 
building  up  at  the  colored  college;  Fair  Hall,  yes. 
^  Whenever  he  comes  take  him  right  up  to  see  March. 
I  promised  John  you  would !  " 


"LINES  OF  LIGHT  ON  A   SULLEN  SEA  "     479 


LXXVII. 


FROM  the  first  hour  of  Johanna's  attendance  March 
began  to  mend.  Whence  she  came,  whither  she  went, 
as  she  moved  in  and  out  so  pleasantly,  he  never  thought 
to  ask,  and  never  found  out  that  her  bed  Avas  a  pallet 
laid  on  the  stair-landing  just  at  his  door. 

The  young  bloods  down  in  the  street  were  keenly 
amused.  "  Doctor,  if  he  was  anybody  but  John  March 
aw  she  anybody  but  Johanna  " — the  rest  was  too  funny 
for  words.  "  How  is  he  to-day,  anyhow  ?  Improving 
rap' — well !  good  fo'  that !  Come,  gentlemen,  let's — 
Come,  Shot.  Doctor,  won't  you —  And  as  they  went 
they  all  agreed  that  the  dark  maiden's  invincible  mod 
esty  was  like  some  "  subtle  emana-ation,"  as  Shotwell 
expressed  it,  which  charmed  all  evil  out  of  the  grossest 
eye. 

True  it  was  in  the  convalescent's  case,  that  while  Jo 
hanna's  mere  doings  had  their  curative  value,  her  sim 
ple  presence  had  more.  Yet  her  greatest  healing  was 
in  her  words ;  in  what  she  told  him.  She  only  an 
swered  questions  ;  but  these  he  lightly  plied  on  any  and 
every  trivial  matter  that  promised  to  lead  up — or 
around — to  one  subject  which  seemed  to  allure  him 
without  cessation.  Yet  always  at  her  first  pause  after 
entering  upon  any  phase  of  this  topic,  he  would  say, 
"  But  that's  not  what — hem ! — I  was  speaking  of,"  and 
starting  once  more,  at  any  distance  away,  would  begin 


480  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

to  steal  yet  another  approach  toward  the  same  enticing 
theme. 

So  the  brief  time  of  her  appointed  service  came  to  its 
end,  neither  the  Doctor,  nor  the  convalescent,  nor  even 
her  young  mistress,  for  one  moment  imagining  what 
dear  delight,  yet  withal  what  saintly  martyrdom  to  Jo 
hanna,  this  three  days'  task  had  been. 

In  its  last  hour,  when  she,  to  end  all  well,  prepared 
and  brought  up  the  captive's  evening  meal,  she  found 
him  sitting  up  in  bed  talking  to  Henry  Fair. 

"  Doctor  thinks  I  can  go  down  to  my  office  Monday. 
Yes,  I  knew  what  ailed  me  better  than  he  did.  I  began 
to  recover  the  moment  I  quit  trying  to  convince  the 
Lord  that  He  ought  to  run  this  world  in  my  private 
interest.  Ah  !  Johanna,  so  this  is  the  last,  is  it  ?  I'm 
pow'ful  sorry !  Mr.  Fair,  you  remember  Johanna, 
don't  you  ?  " 

Mr.  Fair  remembered,  the  maid  courtesied,  and 
March,  a  trifle  unduly  animated,  ran  on — "  Johanna's 
the  salt  of  the  earth,  Mr.  Fair.  Don't  often  see  best 
salt  that  color,  do  you  ?  "  Then  dropping  hist  one — "  0 ! 
you  know,  if  my  chief  concern  were  still,  as  it  was  at 
first,  to  recover  my  fortunes,  or  even  to  vindicate  my 
abilities,  I  reckon  I  could  make  out  to  accept  defeat- 
almost.  For,  really,  I'm  just  about  the  only  sufferer — 
outwardly,  at  least.  Of  course,  there's  an  awful  shrink 
age  here,  but  all  our  home  people  have  made  net  gains 
—unless  it  is  Proudfit;  I — eh — Johanna,  you  needn't 
stay  in  here ;  only  don't  go  beyond  call." 

The  maid  closed  the  door  after  her,  took  her  accus 
tomed  rocking-chair  and  needle  on  the  stair-landing, 


"LINES  OF  LIGHT  ON  A   SULLEN  SEA  "    481 

and  being  quite  as  human  as  if  she  had  been  white,  lis 
tened.  Fair's  words  were  very  indistinct,  but  March's 
came  through  the  thin  door-panels  as  clean  as  rifle-balls. 
"O!  yes,"  was  one  of  his  replies,  "I  know  that  with 
even  nothing  left  but  the  experiences,  I'm  a  whole 
world  richer,  in  things  that  make  a  real  manhood  and 
life,  than  when  I  was  land-poor  with  my  hundred  thou 
sand  acres.  As  far  as  /  am  concerned,  I  can  afford  to 
deny  myself  all  the  reprisals,  and  revenges  too,  that  lit 
igations  could  ever  give  me.  I've  got  sixty  acres  of  Wide- 
wood  to  begin  over  with —  By  Jo' !  Garnet,  himself,  be 
gan  with  less !  "  lie  let  go  a  feverish  laugh. 

"  If  I  come  to  that,"  he  added,  "  I've  got,  besides,  a 
love  of  study  and  a  talent  for  teaching,  two  things  he 
never  had."  Fair  asked  a  question  and  he  laughed 
again.  "  O  !  no,  it  was  only  a  passing  thought.  If  any 
body  *  busts  Rosemont  wide  open  '  it'll  have  to  be  Leggett. 
O !  no,  I "  He  played  with  his  spoon. 

Fair's  response  must  have  been  complimentary. 
"  Thank  you,"  said  March  ;  "  why,  thank  you ! " 
Then  the  visitor  spoke  again  and  the  convalescent 
replied : 

"  Ah  !  a  '  diligent  and  vigilant  patience ' — yes,  I  don't 
doubt  it  would  serve  me  best — provided,  my  dear  sir,  it 
didn't  turn  out  simply  a  virtue  of  impotency  ;  or,  worse 
yet,  what  I  once  heard  called  '  the  thrifty  discretion  of 
a  short-winded  courage ! ' ' 

When  Fair  responded  this  time  March  let  him  speak 
long.  Johanna  bent  her  ear  anxiously.  Her  patient 
seemed  to  be  neglecting  his  food ;  but  as  he  began  to 
reply  she  resumed  her  needle, 


482  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

"Fair,"  she  heard  him  say,  " — why — why,  Fair, 
that's  a  mighty  handsome  offer  to  come  from  such  a 
prudent  business  man  as  you.  My  George !  sir,  men 
don't  often  put  such  valuable  freight  into  a  boat  that's 
aground.  Why — why,  you  spoil  my  talk  ;  I  positively 
don't  know  what — what  to  say  !  "  There  was  a  choke 
in  his  voice.  Fair  made  some  answer  which  March 
gratefully  cut  short. 

"  O !  I  wish  I  could !  It  hurts  me  all  over  and 
through  to  decline  it.  But  I  must ;  I've  got  to ! 
<  Think  it  over ' — O  !  I've  thought  it  over  probably 
before  you  ever  thought  of  it  at  all !  I  know  my  capa 
bilities.  I'm  not  in  such  a  fierce  hurry  for  things  as  I 
used  to  be,  but  I've  got  what  brains  I  ever  had — and 
spine,  too — and  I  know  that  even  without  your  offer 
there's  a  better  chance  for  me  North  than  here.  But — 

0  !  it's  no  use,  Fair,  I  just  can't  go  !     I  mustn't !     Yes. 
Yes.     O  !  yes,  I  know  all  that,  but,  my  dear  sir,  I  can't 
afford —     You  know,  this  Suez  soil  isn't  something  I 
can  shake  off  my  shoes  as  you  might.     George !    I'm 
part  of  it !     I'm  not  Quixotic — not  a  bit !     I'm  only 
choosing  between  two  sorts  of  selfishness,  one  not  quite 
so    narrow    as    the    other;    but  —  I've    got    to    stay 
here." 

Fair,  after  a  short  silence,  asked  if  this  was  his  only 
reason. 

"Only  reason?  Why — why,  yes,  that's  my  only 
reason  !  To  be  sure,  there's  a  sense  in  which — why, 
conscience !  isn't  it  enough  ?  O !  of  course,  I  could 
think  up  other  considerations,  but  they're  not  reasons — 

1  don't  allow  them  to  bias  me  at  all !     Fact  is,  I  was 


"LINES  OF  LIGHT  ON  A   SULLEN  SEA  "     483 

never  before  quite  so  foot-free.  Why  did  you  ask? 
Did  you  fancy  I  might  be  contemplating  marriage? 
O,  go  'long!  why,  my  good  gracious,  Fair,  I — it's  an 
honest  fact — I  haven't  even  been  to  see  one  marriageable 
girl  since  I  came  back  from  Europe !  No,  the  reason  I 
give  is  the  reason.  It  covers  everything  else. 

"  0 !  if  you  are  thinking  of  debts,  I  could  cancel 
them  at  least  as  fast  if  I  went  as  if  I  stayed.  They're 
not  large,  the  money  debts.  O  !  no ;  it's — Fair — I 
spent  a  year  in  Europe  coaxing  men  to  leave  their 
mother-country  for  better  wages  in  this.  Of  course,  that 
was  all  right.  But  it  brought  one  thing  to  my  notice : 
that  when  our  value  is  not  mere  wages,  it  isn't  every 
man  who's  got  the  unqualified  right  to  pick  up  and  put 
out  just  whenever  he  gets  ready.  Look  out  that  win 
dow.  There's  the  college  where  for  five  years  I  got  my 
education — at  half  price  ! — and  with  money  borrowed 
here  in  Suez  !  Look  out  this  one.  Mr.  Fair,  right 
down  there  in  those  streets  truth  and  justice  are  lying 
wounded  and  half-dead,  and  the  public  conscience  is  be-  f 
in<x  drilled  !  AVe  Southerners,  Fair,  don't  believe  one 

ID  OO  *  * 

man's  as  good  as  another  ;  we  think  one  man  in  his  right 
place  is  worth  a  thousand  who  can't  fill  it.  My  place  is 
here ! — No  !  let  me  finish  ;  I'm  not  fatigued  at  all ! 
How  I'm  to  meet  this  issue  God  only  knows,  but  who'll 
even  try  to  do  it  if  I  don't  ?  Halliday's  too  far  off. 
Ravenel  looks  on  as  silent  as  a  gallows !  Proudfit — 
poor  old  Proudfit  hasn't  been  sober  since  the  day  he 
got  home.  Father  Tombs  has  grown  timid  and  slow- 
sighted,  and  the  whole  people,  Fair,  the  whole  people ! 
have  let  themselves  be  seduced  in  the  purse  and  are  this 


484  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

day  betrayed  as  foully  in  their  fortunes  as  in  their 
souls!"  The  speaker  ended  in  a  high  key.  lie  was 
trembling  with  nervous  exhaustion.  In  an  effort  to  jerk 
higher  in  the  pillow  his  knee  struck  the  tray,  the 
crockery  slid  and  crashed,  and  Johanna  found  him  in 
the  middle  of  the  room,  fiercely  shaking  the  skirt  of  his 
dressing-gown. 

"  O  !  never  mind  me  ;  get  the  milk  out  of  the  bed  !  " 

She  saw  how  overwrought  he  was,  yet  turned  to  obey. 
Fair,  to  aid  her,  snatched  away  the  pillows.  A  small 
thing  from  under  them  fluttered  out  upon  the  carpet  and 
lay  before  the  three.  With  a  despairing  murmur  the 
invalid  picked  it  up,  and  ilir  two  men  stood  facing  each 
other.  Fair  colored  slightly,  March  slowly  crimsoned. 
Then  Fair  smiled.  March  smiled  too,  but  foolishly. 
Johanna  made  herself  very  busy  with  the  bed,  but  she 
saw  all.  Fair  pushed  forward  a  rocking-chair,  into 
which  March  sank.  Then  with  gentle  insistence  he  drew 
from  March's  hand  the  worn  photograph — for  such  it 
was — leaned  against  a  window  and  gazed  on  it,  while 
March  turned  his  brow  into  the  cushioned  back  of  his 
chair  and  wept  as  comfortably  as  any  girl. 

Johanna  took  out  the  tray  and  its  wreck,  and  in  a 
moment  was  back  with  fresh  sheets.  March  had  lain 
down  on  the  bare  mattress  and,  with  his  cheek  on  a  pil 
low,  was  smiling  in  mild  amusement  at  Fair's  account  of 
a  brief  talk  he  had  had  with  Leggett  while  the  train 
waited  at  Pulaski  City. 

"  Yes,"  said  March,  moving  enough  to  let  the  bed  be 
made,  "  he  pretends  to  keep  a  restaurant  there  now  ;  but 
where  he  gets  all  the  money  he  spends  is  more  than  I 


"LINES  OF  LIGHT  ON  A   SULLEN  SEA  "     485 

can  make  out,  unless  it's  from  men  who  can't  afford  to 
let  him  tell  what  he  knows." 

A  servant  of  the  house  tapped  at  the  door  and 
said  Major  Garnet  was  in  the  office,  waiting  for 
Johanna,  March  rose  to  his  elbow  and  gave  her  a 
hand. 

"  Why,  I  shan't  ever  know  how  to  be  sick  without 
you  any  mo' !  "  he  said,  as  her  dark  fingers  slipped  tim 
idly  from  his  friendly  hold.  "  Johanna ! — now — now, 
don't  you  go  tellin'  things  you'd  oughtn't  to  ;  will  you  ?  " 

"  No,  seh,"  came  from  the  maid  slowly,  yet  with  a 
suspicious  readiness  quite  out  of  keeping  with  the  limp 
diffidence  of  her  attitude. 

"  Hold  on  a  moment,   Johanna,"  he  called,    as  she 
turned  to  go.     "  Just  wait  an  instant — sounds  like — 
He  rose  higher.    Fair  stepped  to  the  west  window.    Loud 
words  were  coining  from  the  sidewalk  under  it.     March 

started  eagerly.     "That's  Proudfit's '      Before    he 

could  finish  the  bang  of  a  pistol  rang,  evidently  in  the 
office  door,  another,  farther  within,  roared  up  through  the 
house,  and  a  third  and  fourth  re-echoed  it  amid  the  wail- 
ings  of  Johanna  as  she  flew  down  the  stairs  crying  : 

"  Mahs  John  Wesley !  O  Lawdy,  Lawdy  !  Mahs 
John  Wesley !  Mahs  John  Wesley  !  " 

At  the  same  instant  came  Tom  Hersey's  voice, 
remote,  but  clear : 

"Stop!  Great  God!  Stop!  Don't  you  see  he's 
dying?" 

Fair  was  already  on  the  staircase  and  March  was 
whipping  on  his  boots,  when  Shotwell,  coming  up  by 
leaps,  waved  them  back  into  the  room.  "  It's  all  ova, 


486  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

Mr.  Fair.  Po'  Proudy's  gone,  John.  He  fi-ud  an' 
missed,  and  got  Garnet's  first  bullet  in  his  heart  an'  the 
othe's  close  to  it.  Garnet's  locked  himself  into  Tom 
Hersey's  private  room  an'  sent  for  Fatheh  Tombs, 
to " 

"  Fair  !  "  interrupted  March,  "  go  !  Go  tell  her  he's 
safe  and  will  not  be — interfered  with  !  I'll  make  your 
word  good  ;  go,  Fair,  go !  " 

But  Fair  answered  with  hardly  less  emotion,  "  I  can 
not,  March !  It  isn't  a  man's  errand  !  It  isn't  a  man's 
errand !  " 

"  Take  Mrs.  Ravenel !  "  cried  March,  and  read  quick 
assent  in  his  friend's  face.  "  But  make  her  go  dressed 
as  she  is;  you've  got  to  outrun  rumor!  Captain,  go 
tell  Tom  to  give  him  Firefly,  won't  you  ?  She's  mine, 
Fair,"  he  continued,  following  to  the  stairs  ;  "  she's  the 
mare  I  cured  for  Bulger ;  perfectly  gentle,  only — 
Fair  ! — don't  touch  her  with  the  whip  !  " 

"  If  you  do,"  drawled  Shotwell  to  Fair,  as  they  hur 
ried  down  into  the  lamplight,  "  you'll  think  the  devil's 
inside  of  her  with  the  jimjams.  Still,  she's  lovely  as 
long  as  you  don't.  Ah  me  !  this  is  no  time  to  jest !  Po' 
Proudfit !  He  leaves  a  spotless  characteh  !  " 

Through  the  unnatural  bustle,  amid  which  Crickwater 
at  the  door  of  the  closed  office  stood  answering  or  ignor 
ing  questions  and-showing  his  intimates  where  Proudfit's 
wild  shot  had  chopped  out  a  large  lock  of  his  hair,  they 
went  to  Hersey's  door  and  so  on  to  the  stable.  "  Gar- 
'  net's  the  man  to  pity,  Mr.  Fair.  I  couldn't  say  it  befo' 
March,  who's  got  family  reasons — through  his  motheh — 
,faw  savin'  Garnet  whateveh  he  can  of  his  splendid  repu- 


u  LI.VES  OF  LIGHT  OX  A   SULLEN  SEA"     487 

taation,  but  I'm  mighty  'fraid  they  won't  be  a  rag  of  it 
left,  seh,  big  enough  for  a  gun-wad  !  Mr.  Fair,  you've 
got  a  hahd  drive  befo'  you,  seh,  an'  if  you'll  allow  me  to 
suggest  it,  seh,  I  think  it  would  be  only  wise,  befo'  you 
staht,  faw  us  to  take  a  drink,  seh." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  Northerner,  "  I  hardly  think— 
Do  you  suppose  Major  Garnet's  firing  those  last  two 
shots  after " 

"Will  ruin  him?  O  Lawd,  not  that!  We  all 
know,  and  always  have,  that  he's  perfectly  cra-azy  when 
he's  enra-aged.  No,  my  deah  sell,  Miz  Proudfit  has  con 
fessed  !  She  says " 

"Are  you  not  surprised  that  Major  Garnet  was 
armed  ?  "  Fair  interrupted. 

"  O  !  no,  seh,  Colonel  Proudfit  was  too  much  of  a 
gentleman  to  be  lookin'  faw  a  man,  with  a  gun,  an'  not 
send  him  word  !  And,  besides,  Miz  Proudfit's  revela-a- 
tions •" 

But  the  horse  and  buggy  were  ready,  and  at  last 
March — to  whom,  as  he  stood  at  his  window  fully 
dressed,  the  few  moments  had  seemed  an  hour — sawr  Fair 
drive  swiftly  by  and  fade  into  the  gloom.  Charlie 
Champion  came  toward  the  hotel,  bringing  Parson 
Tombs.  March  put  on  his  hat,  but  for  many  minutes 
only  paced  the  darkening  room.  Finally  he  started  for 
the  stairs,  and  half  way  down  them  met  the  Doctor. 

"  Why,  bless  my  soul,  John,"  he  good-naturedly 
cried,  "  this  is  quite  too  fast." 

"  I  reckon  not,  Doctor ;  I  believe  I'm  well.  I  don't 
understand  it,  but  it's  so."  lie  endured  the  Doctor's 
hand  for  a  moment  on  his  wrist  and  temples. 


488  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

"  Why,  I  declare ! "  laughed  the  physician  with 
noisy  pleasure,  "  I  believe  yo'  right ! "  As  they  de 
scended  he  explained  how  such  recoveries  are  possible 
and  why  they  are  so  rare,  citing  from  medical  annals  a 
case  or  two  whose  mention  John  thought  very  unflattering. 

"I  should  like  to  know  what's  become  of  Johanna," 
said  March  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

"  Johanna  ?  O  they  say  she  ran  all  the  way  to  Fan 
nie  Ravenel's,  and  they  harnessed  up  the  fast  colt  and 
put  off  for  Rosemont,  Johanna  driving !  " 

"Why,  of  course!  I  might  have  known  it!  But" 
— John  stopped — "Why,  then,  where's  Fair?" 

"  O  I  saw  him.  He  drove  on  to  overtake  'em.  He'll 
have  a  job  of  it !  " 

"  Firefly  can  do  it,"  said  March,  picturing  the  chase  to 
himself.  "  But  I — I  wonder  what — This  is  no  time- — 
Why — why,  what  did  he  want  to  do  it  for  ?  " 

"O  he  may  have  had  the  best  of  reasons,"  said  the 
amiable  Doctor,  and  departed. 

Outside  a  certain  door — "  Why,  John  March  !  "  mur 
mured  Tom  Hersey.  The  voices  of  Garnet  and  Parson 
Tombs  could  be  heard  within.  They  ceased  as  the 
landlord  modestly  rattled  the  knob,  and  when  he  gave 
the  visitor's  name  Garnet's  voice  said : 

"Ask  him  in." 

As  March  entered,  only  Parson  Tombs  rose  to  meet 
him.  He  had  a  large  handkerchief  in  his  fingers,  his 
eyes  were  very  red,  and  he  gave  his  hand  in  silence. 
Garnet,  too,  had  been  weeping.  He  shaded  his  down 
cast  eyes  from  the  lamp.  March  had  determined  to 
give  himself  no  time  for  feelings,  but  his  voice  was  sud- 


"LINES  OF  LIGHT  OAr  A   SULLEN  SEA  "     489 

denly  not  his  own  as  lie  began,  "Major  Garnet,"  and 
stopped,  while  Garnet  slowly  lifted  his  face  until  the 
light  shone  on  it.  March  stood  still  and  felt  his  heart 
heave  between  loathing  and  compassion ;  for  on  that 
lamp-lit  face  one  hour  of  public  shame  had  written 
more  guilt  than  years  of  secret  perfidy  and  sin,  and  the 
question  rushed  upon  the  young  man's  mind,  Can  this 
be  the  author  of  all  my  misfortunes  and  the  father  of? 
— he  quenched  the  thought  and  driving  back  a  host  of 
memories  said : 

"Major,  Doctor  Coffin  has  just  pronounced  me  well. 
I  am  at  your  disposal,  sir,  for  anything  that  ought  to 
be  done." 

Garnet  shaded  his  eyes  again.  "  Thank  you,  John," 
was  his  subdued  reply.  "  It's  such  a  clear  case  of  self- 
defence — I  hear  there  will  be  no  arrest.  Still,  I  shall 
remain  here  to-night.  Johanna's  gone  home,  I  believe. 
There's  only  one  thing,  the  deepest  yearning  of  my 
heart,  John ;  but  before  I  ask  that  boon,  I  want  you  to 
know7,  John,  that  I  acknowledge  my  sin !  my  awful, 
awful  sin  of  years  !  O  my  God  !  my  God !  why  did  I 
do  it  ?  " 

Parson  Tombs  wept  again.  "  He's  confessed  every 
thing,  John,"  he  said  with  eager  tenderness. 

"  God  'knows,"  responded  Garnet,  "  God  knows  I 
never  concealed  it  but  to  save  others  from  misery !  and 
while  I  concealed  it  I  could  not  master  it!  Now  I 
have  purged  my  sin-blackened  soul  of  all  its  hideous 
secret  and  evil  purpose !  The  thorn  in  my  flesh  is 
plucked  out  and  I  cast  myself  on  the  mercy  of  God  and 
the  charity  of  his  people !  " 


490  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

"  Pra-aise  Gawd!"  murmured  Parson  Tombs,  "no 
sinneli  even  done  that  in  va-ain !  " 

"  0  John,"  moaned  Garnet,  "  God  only  knows  what 
I've  suffered  and  must  suffer !  But  it's  all  riirht !  all 

O 

right !  I  pray  He  may  lop  off  every  unfruitful  branch 
of  my  life — honors,  possessions — till  nothing  is  left  but 
Rosemont,  the  lowly  work  He  called  me  to,  Himself! 
Let  Him  make  me  as  one  of  his  hired  servants !  But, 
John,"  he  continued  while  March  stood  dumb  with 
wonder  at  his  swift  loss  of  subtlety,  "  I  want  you  to 
know  also  that  I  feel  no  resentment — I  cannot — O  I 
cannot — against  her  who  shares  my  guilt  and  shame !  " 

"  Great  Heaven !  "  murmured  March,  with  a  start  as 
if  to  turn  away. 

"No,  thank  God!  her  vanity  and  jealousy  can  drive 
me  to  no  more  misdeeds !  She  made  me  send  Mademoi 
selle  Eglantine  to  Europe,  when  she  knew  I  had  to  sell 
her  husband's  stock  in  both  companies  to  bribe  the 
woman  to  go !  John,  the  cause  of  her  betraying  me  to 
him  at  last  w7as  my  faithful  refusal  to  break  off  my  en 
gagement  with  your  mother !  " 

"Major  Garnet,  I  prefer — 

"  Will  you  tell  your  mother  that,  John  ?  It's  the  one 
thing  you  can  do  for  me !  Tell  her  I  beseech  her  in 
the  name  of  a  love " 

"  Stop ! "  murmured  March  in  a  voice  that  quivered 
with  repulsion. 

" — A  love  that  has  dared  all,  and  lost  all,  for 
hers " 

"  Stop !  "  said  John  again,  and  Garnet  turned  a  be  • 
seeching  eye  upon  the  pastor. 


BARBARA  FINDS  THE  RHYME  491 

"John,"  tearfully  said  the  old  man,  "let  us  not  yield 
to  ow  feelings  when  the  cry  of  a  soul  in  shipwreck  "- 
he  stopped  to  swallow  his  emotions.  "  Ow  penitent 
brother  on'y  asks  you  to  bear  his  message.  It's  natu'al 
he  should  cling  to  the  one  pyo  tie  that  holds  him  to  us. 
O  John,  '  in  wrath  remembeh  mercy ! '  An'  yet  you 
may  be  the  nearest  right,  God  knows !  0  brethren, 
let's  kneel  and  ask  Him  faw  equal  love  an'  wisdom  !  " 

Garnet  rose  to  kneel,  but  March  put  out  a  protesting 
hand.  "  I  wouldn't  do  that,  sir."  The  tone  was  gen 
tle,  almost  compassionate.  "  I  don't  suppose  God  would 
strike  you  dead,  but — I  wouldn't  do  it,  sir."  He  turned 
to  go,  and,  glancing  back  unexpectedly,  saw  on  Garnet's 
face  a  look  so  evil  that  it  haunted  him  for  years. 


LXXVIII. 

BARBARA    FINDS    THE    RHYME 

BARBARA  walked  along  the  slender  road  in  front  of 
Rosemont's  grove.  The  sun  was  gone.  Her  father  had 
not  arrived  yet  with  Johanna,  but  she  questioned  every 
stir  of  the  air  for  the  sound  of  their  coming.  A  yearn 
ing  which  commonly  lay  very  still  in  her  bosom  and 
ought  in  these  two  long  years  to  have  got  reconciled  to 
its  lovely  prison,  was  up  once  more  in  silent  mutiny. 

AVith  slow  self-compulsion  she  turned  toward  the 
house.  The  dim,  vacated  dormitories  grew  large  against 


492  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

the  fading  after-glow.  The  thrush's  song  ceased.  Re 
motely  from  the  falling  slope  beyond  the  unlighted 
house  the  voices  of  a  negro  boy  and  girl,  belated  in  the 
milking-pen,  came  to  her  ear  more  lightly  than  the 
gurgle  of  the  shallow  creek  so  near  her  feet.  Suddenly 
the  cry  of  the  whip- Will's -widow  filled  the  grove — 
"  whip-Will's-widow  !  whip-Will's- widow  !  whip-Will's- 
widow  !  " — in  headlong  importunity  until  the  whole  air 
sobbed  and  quivered  with  the  overcharge  of  its  melan 
choly  passion.  Then  as  abruptly  it  was  hushed,  the 
echoes  died,  and  Barbara,  at  the  grove  gate,  recalled 
the  other  twilight  hour,  a  counterpart  of  this  in  all  but 
its  sadness,  when,  on  this  spot,  she  had  bidden  John 
March  come  the  next  day  to  show  Widewood  to  Henry 
Fair. 

And  now  Henry  Fair  "  some  day  soon,"  his  unex 
pected  letter  said,  was  to  come  again.  And  she  was 
letting  him  come.  One  of  his  sweet  mother's  letters — 
always  so  welcome — had  ever  so  delicately  hinted  a  hope 
that  she  would  do  so,  the  fond  mother  affectionately 
imputing  to  the  father's  wisdom  the  feeling  that  Henry's 
present  life  contained  more  uncertainties  than  were  good 
for  his,  or  anyone's,  future.  He  was  coming  at  last  for 
her  final  word,  and  in  her  meditations,  his  patient  con 
stancy,  like  a  great  ambassador,  pleaded  mightily  in 
advance. 

Henry  Fair,  gentle,  strong,  and  true,  will  come ;  the 
other  never  comes.  The  explanation  is  very  simple ; 
she  has  made  it  to  Johanna  twice  within  the  year  :  a 
strained  relation — it  happens  among  the  best  of  men — 
between  him  and  Kosemont's  master.  Besides,  Mr. 


BARBARA  FINDS  THE  RHYME  493 

March,  she  says,  visits  nowhere.  Pie  is,  as  Fannie 
herself  testifies,  more  completely  out  of  all  Suez's  little 
social  eddies  than  even  the  overtasked  young  mistress 
of  Rosemont,  and  does  nothing  day  or  night  but  buffet 
the  flood  of  his  adversities.  As  she  reminds  herself  of 
these  things  now,  she  recalls  Fannie's  praise  of  his 
"indomitable  pluck,"  and  feels  a  new,  warm  courage 
around  her  own  heart.  For  as  long  as  men  can  show 
valor,  she  gravely  reflects,  surely  women  can  have  forti 
tude.  How  small  a  right,  at  best — how  little  honest 
room — there  is  in  this  huge  world  of  strifes  and  sorrows 
for  a  young  girl's  heart  to  go  breaking  itself  witli  its 
own  grief  and  longing. 

The  right  thing  is,  of  course,  to  forget.  She  should  ! 
She  must !  But — she  has  said  so  every  evening  and 
morning  for  two  years.  Old  man!  old  woman  !  do  you 
remember  what  two  years  meant  when  you  were  in  the 
early  twenties  ?  Even  yet,  with  the  two  vears  gone, 
by  hard  crowding  of  the  hours  with  cares,  as  a  ship 
crowds  sail  or  steam,  it  seems  at  times  as  if  her  forget 
ting  were  about  to  make  headway  ;  but  just  then  the 
unexpected  happens — merely  the  unexpected.  O  why 
not  the  romantic  ?  She  hears  him  praised  or  blamed  ; 
or,  as  now,  lie  is  ill ;  or  she  meets  him  in  a  dream  ;  or 
between  midnight  and  dawn  she  cannot  sleep ;  or, 
worst  of  all,  by  some  sad  mischance  she  sees  him,  close 
by,  in  a  throng  or  in  a  public  way — for  an  instant — 
and,  when  it  is  too  late,  knows  by  his  remembered  look 
that  he  wanted  to  speak  ;  and  the  flood  lifts  and  sweeps 
her  back,  and  she  must  begin  again.  The  daylight 
hours  are  the  easiest ;  there  is  so  much  to  do  and 


494  JOHN  MARCH,   SOUTHERNER 

see  clone,  and  just  the  dear,  lost,  silent-hearted  mother's 
ways  to  follow.  One  can  manage  everything  but  the 
twilights  with  their  death  of  day,  their  hush  of  birds, 
the  mind  gazing  back  into  the  past  and  the  heart  asking 
unanswerable  questions  of  the  future.  For  the  even 
ings  there  are  books,  though  not  all  ;  especially  not 
Herrick,  any  more ;  nor  Tennyson,  for  it  opens  of 
itself  at  "  Mariana,"  who  wept,  "  I  am  aweary,  aweary. 
Oh,  God,  that  I  were  dead  !  " 

Barbara  walked  again.  Moving  at  a  slow  pace,  so, 
one  can  more  soberly — She  heard  wheels.  A  quarter  of 
a  mile  away  they  rumbled  on  a  small  bridge  and  were 
unheard  again,  and  while  she  still  listened  to  hear  them 
on  the  ground  others  sounded  on  the  bridge.  She  hur 
ried  back  to  the  steps  of  the  house  and  had  hardly 
reached  them  when  Johanna  drove  into  the  grove  and 
Fannie's  voice  called, 
"  Is  that  you,  Barb  ?  " 

"  Yes.     Where's  pop-a  ?      Has  anything  happened  ?  " 
"  Tie's  got  to  stay  in  town  to-night.     Barb,"  said  the 
visitor,  springing  to  the  ground,  "  Mr.  Fair's  just  behind. 
He's  only  come  so's  to  take  me  back  to  my  baby." 
"  Fannie,  something's  happened !  " 
"  Yes,  Barb,  dear,  come  into  the  house." 
About  midnight — "  Doctor,  her  head  hasn't  stopped 
that    motion  since  it  touched    the   pillow,"  murmured 
Fannie.     Fair  had    gone  back  and  brought  the   phy 
sician.     But  the  patient  was  soon  drugged  to  slumber, 
and  Fannie  and  Fair  started  for  town  to  return  early  in 
the  morning.     The  doctor  and   Johanna  watched  out 
the  night.    At  dawn  Fair  rose  from  a  sleepless  couch. 


BARBARA  FINDS  THE  RHYME  495 

At  sunrise  he  could  hear  no  sound  through  March's 
door ;  but  as  he  left  the  hotel  he  saw  Leggett  come  up 
from  the  train,  tap  at  Garnet's  door  and  go  in. 

Barbara  awoke  in  a  still  bliss  of  brain,  yet  wholly 
aware  of  what  had  befallen. 

"  Johanna  " — the  maid  showed  herself — "  has  Miss 
Fannie  gone  home  ?  " 

"  Yass'm.  But  she  comin'  back.  She  be  here  ve'y 
soon  now,  I  reckon." 

Barbara  accepted  a  small  cup  of  very  black  coffee. 
When  it  was  drunk,  "  Johanna,"  she  said,  with  slow 
voice  and  gentle  gaze,  "  were  you  in  the  hotel  ?  " 

"Yass'm,"  murmured  the  maid.  "I  uz  in  Mr. 
March's  room.  He  uz  talkin'  wid  Mr.  Fair,  an'  knock' 
his  suppeh  by  accident  onto  de  flo',  an'  " — she  withdrew 
into  herself,  consulted  her  conscience  and  returned. 
"  Miss  Barb " 

"What,  Johanna?" 

Johanna  told. 

Long  after  she  was  done  her  mistress  lay  perfectly  still 
gazing  into  vacancy.  But  the  moment  Fannie  was 
alone  with  her  she  dragged  the  kind  visitor's  neck  down 
to  her  lips  and  with  unaccountable  blushes  mingled  her 
tears  with  bitter  moanings. 

By  and  by — "  And  Fannie,  dear,  make  them  stay 
to  breakfast.  And  thank  Mr.  Fair  for  me,  as  sweetly 
as  you  can.  I  don't  know  how  I  can  ever  repay 
him !  " 

"  Don't  you  ?  "  dryly  ventured  Fannie ;  but  her 
friend's  smile  was  so  sad  that  she  went  no  farther.  Tears 


496  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

sprang  to  her  eyes,  as  Barbara,  slowly  taking  her  hand, 
said, 

"  Of  course  pop-a  can't  keep  Rosemont  now.  If  he 
tries  to  begin  a  new  life,  Fannie,  wherever  it  is,  I  shall 
stay  with  him." 

Fair  gave  the  day  mainly  to  the  annual  meeting  of 
the  trustees  at  Suez  University.  The  corner-stone  was 
not  to  be  laid  until  the  morrow.  March  reopened  his 
office,  but  did  almost  no  work,  owing  to  the  steady 
stream  of  callers  from  all  round  the  square  coming  to 
wish  him  well  with  handshake  and  laugh,  and  with  jests 
which  more  or  less  subtly  implied  their  conviction  that 
he  was  somehow  master  of  the  hour.  When  Ravenel 
came  others  slipped  out,  although  he  pleasantly  remarked 
that  they  need  not,  and  those  who  looked  in  later  and 
saw  the  two  men  sitting  face  to  face  drew  back.  "  That 
thing  last  night,"  said  Weed  to  Usher,  going  to 
the  door  of  their  store  to  throw  his  quid  into  the  street, 
"  givm  the  Courier  about  the  hahdest  kick  in  the  ribs  she 
evva  got."  But  no  one  divined  Ravenel's  errand,  unless 
Garnet  darkly  suspected  it  as  he  waited  beside  Jeff- Jack's 
desk  for  its  owner's  return,  to  ask  him  for  ten  thousand 
dollars  on  a  mortgage  of  his  half  of  Widewood,  with 
which  to  quiet,  he  serenely  explained,  any  momentary 
alarm  among  holders  of  his  obligations.  And  even  Gar 
net  did  not  guess  that  Ravenel  would  not  have  tele 
graphed,  as  he  did,  to  a  bank  in  Pulaski  City  in  which 
he  was  director,  to  grant  the  loan,  had  not  John  March 
just  declined  his  offer  of  a  third  interest  in  the  Courier. 

At  evening  March  and  Fair  dined  together  in  Hotel 
Swanee.  They  took  a  table  at  a  window  and  talked 


BARBARA   FINDS   THE  RHYME  497 

but  little,  and  then  softly,  with  a  placid  gravity,  on 
trivial  topics,  keeping  serious  ones  for  a  better  privacy, 
though  all  other  guests  had  eaten  and  gone.  Only  Shot- 
well,  unaware  of  their  presence,  lingered  over  his  pie 
and  discussed  Garnet's  affair  with  the  head  waitress,  an 
American  lady.  He  read  to  her  on  the  all-absorbing 
theme,  from  the  Pulaski  City  Clarion;  whose  editor, 
while  mingling  solemn  reprobations  with  amazed  regrets, 
admitted  that  a  sin  less  dark  than  David's  had  been 
confessed  from  the  depths  of  David's  repentance.  In 
return  she  would  have  read  him  the  Suez  Courier's  much 
fuller  history  of  the  whole  matter ;  but  he  had  read  it, 
and  with  a  kindly  smile  condemned  it  as  "  suspended  in 
a  circumaambient  air  of  edito'ial  silence." 

"  I  know  not  what  co'se  othe's  may  take,  my  dea' 
madam,  but  as  faw  me,  give  me  neither  poverty  naw 
riches ;  give  me  political  indispensability  ;  the  pa-apers 
have  drawn  the  mantle  of  charity  ove'  'im,  till  it  covers 
him  like  a  circus-tent." 

"All!  but  what'll  his  church  do?"  The  lady  bent 
from  her  chair  and  tied  her  slipper. 

"My  dea'  madam,  what  can  she  do?  She  th'ows 
up — excuse  the  figgeh — she  th'ows  up,  I  say,  her  foot  to 
kick  him  out ;  he  tearfully  ketches  it  in  his  ha-and  an' 
retains  it  with  the  remahk,  '  I  repent ! '  What  can  his 
church  do  ?  She  can  do  jest  one  thing !  " 

"  What's  that  ?  "  asked  the  lady,  gathering  his  dishes 
without  rising. 

"  Why  she  can  make  him  marry  Miz  Proudfit !  " 

The  lady  got  very  red.  "Captain  Shotwell,  I'll 
thaynk  you  not  to  allude  to  that  person  to  me  again, 


498  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

seh !  "  She  jerked  one  knee  over  the  other  and  folded 
her  arms. 

"  My  dea'  madam  !  I  was  thoughtless  !  Fawgive  me  !  " 
The  Captain  stood  up.  "  I'm  not  myself  to-day.  Not 
but  what  I'm  sobeh  ;  but  I — oh,  I'm  in  trouble  !  But 
what's  that  to  you?"  He  pulled  his  soft  hat  pic 
turesquely  over  his  eyes,  and  starting  out,  discovered 
March  and  Fair.  He  looked  sadly  mortified  as  he 
saluted  them,  but  quickly  lighted  up  again  and  called 
March  aside. 

"  John,  do  you  know  what  Charlie  Champion's  been 
doin'  ?  He's  been  try  in'  to  get  up  a  sort  o'  syndicate  to 
buy  Rosemont  and  make  you  its  pres — O  now,  now, 
ca'm  yo'self,  he's  give  it  up ;  we  all  wish  it,  but  you 
know,  John,  how  ow  young  men  always  ah  ;  dead  broke, 
you  know.  An'  besides,  anyhow,  Garnet  may  ruin  Rose 
mont,  but,  as  Jeff-Jack  says,  he'll  neveh  sell  it.  It's  his 
tail-holt.  Eh — eh — one  moment,  John,  I  want  to  tell 
you  anotheh  thing.  You've  always  been  sich  a  good 
friend — John,  I've  p'posed  to  Miss  Mahtha-r  again,  an' 
she's  rejected  me,  as  usual.  I  knew  you'd  be  glad  to 
hear  it."  He  smiled  through  his  starting  tears.  "  But 
she  cried,  John,  she  did ! — said  she'd  neveh  ma'  anybody 
else!" 

"  Ah,  Shot,  you're  making  a  pretty  bad  flummux  of 
it!  " 

"  Yes,  John,  I  know  I  am — p'posin'  by  da-aylight ! 
It  don't  work !  But,  you  know,  when  I  wait  until 
evenin'  I  ain't  in  any  condition.  Still,  I'll  neveh  p'pose 
to  her  by  da-aylight  again  !  I  don't  believe  Eve  would 
'a'  ma'd  Adam  if  he'd  p'posed  by  da-aylight." 


BARBARA   FINDS  THE  RHYME  499 

The  kind  Captain  passed  out.  He  spent  the  night  in 
his  room  with  our  friend,  the  commercial  traveler,  who, 
at  one  in  the  morning,  was  saying  to  him  for  the  tenth 
time, 

"I  came  isstantly  !  For  whareverss  Garness's  troubl'ss 
my  trouble  !  I  can't  tell  you  why  ;  thass  my  secret ;  I 
say  thass  my  secret !  Fill  up  again  ;  this  shocksh  too 
much  for  me  !  Capm — want  to  ask  you  one  thing : 
Muss  I  be  carried  to  the  skies  on  flow'ry  bedge  of  ease 
while  Garnet  fighss  to  win  the  prise  V  sails  through 
bloody  seas  ?  Sing  that,  Capm  !  I'll  line  it !  You 
sing  it !  "  Shotwell  sang  ;  his  companion  wept.  So 
they  closed  their  sad  festivities ;  not  going  to  bed,  but 
sleeping  on  their  arms,  like  the  stern  heroes  they  were. 

"  Why,  look  at  the  droves  of  OWT  own  people ! " 
laughed  Captain  Champion  at  the  laying  of  the  corner 
stone.  And  after  it,  "  Yes,  Mr.  Fair's  address  was 
fi-ine !  But  faw  me,  Miz  Ravenel,  do  you  know  I  liked 
just  those  few  words  of  John  March  evm  betteh  ?  " 

"  They  wa'n't  so  few,"  drawled  Lazarus  Graves,  "  but 
what  they  put  John  on  the  shelf." 

The  hot  Captain  flashed.  "Politically,  yes,  seh ! 
On  the  top  shelf,  where  we  saave  up  ow  best  men  faw 
ow  worst  needs,  seh  !  " 

Fair  asked  March  to  take  a  walk.  They  went  with 
out  a  word  until  they  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  a  wrood. 
Then  Fair  said, 

"  March,  I  have  a  question  to  ask  you.  Why  don't 
you  try  ?  " 

"  Fair,  she  won't  ever  let  me  !  She's  as  good  as  told 
me,  up  and  down,  I  mustn't.  And  now  I  can't !  I'm 


500  JOHN  MA  R CH,  SO  U  THERNER 

penniless,  and  part  of  her  inheritance  will  be  my  lost 
lands.  I  can't  ignore  that ;  I  haven't  got  the  moral 
courage!  Besides,  Fair,  I  know  thai  if  she  takes  you, 
there's  an  end  of  all  her  troubles  and  a  future  worthy 
of  her — as  far  as  any  future  can  be.  What  sort  of  a 
fellow  would  I  be — Oh,  mind  you  !  if  I  had  the  faintest 
reason  to  think  she'd  rather  have  me  than  you,  I  George ! 

sir "  He  sprang  up  and  began  to  spurn  the  bark 

off  a  stump  with  a  strength  of  leg  that  made  it  fly. 
"  Fair,  tell  me !  Are  you  going  to  offer  yourself,  not 
withstanding  all  ? " 

"  Yes.  Yes ;  if  the  letter  I  expect  from  home  to 
morrow,  and  which  I  telegraphed  them  to  write,  is  what 
I  make  no  doubt  it  will  be  ;  yes." 

March  gazed  at  his  companion  and  slowly  and  soberly 
smiled.  "Fair,"  he  softly  exclaimed,  "I  wish  I  had 
your  head  !  Lord  !  Fair,  I  wish  I  had  your  chance  !  " 

"Ah  !  no,"  was  the  gentle  reply,  "I  wish  one  or  the 
other  were  far  better." 

A  third  sun  had  set  before  Barbara  walked  again  at 
the  edge  of  the  grove.  Two  or  three  hours  earlier  her 
father  had  at  last  come  home,  and  as  she  saw  the  awful 
change  in  his  face  and  the  vindictive  gleam  with  which 
he  met  her  recognition  of  it,  she  knew  they  were  no 
longer  father  and  daughter.  The  knowledge  pierced 
like  a  slow  knife,  and  yet  brought  a  sense  of  relief — of 
release — that  shamed  her  until  she  finally  fled  into  the 
open  air  as  if  from  suffocation.  There  she  wratched  the 
west  grow  dark  and  the  stars  fill  the  sky  while  thoughts 
shone,  vanished,  and  shone  again  in  soft  confusion  like 


BARBARA  FIXDS  THE  RHYME  501 

the  fireflies  in  the  grove.  Only  one  continued — that  now 
she  might  choose  her  future.  Her  father  had  said  so 
with  an  icy  venom  which  flashed  fire  as  he  added, 
"  But  if  you  quit  Roscmont  now,  so  help  me  God,  you 
shall  never  own  it,  if  I  have  to  put  it  to  the  torch  on 
my  dying  bed  !  " 

She  heard  something  and  stepped  into  hiding.  What 
rider  could  be  coming  at  this  hour?  John  March? 
Henry  Fair?  It  was  neither.  As  he  passed  in  at  the 
gate  she  shrank,  gasped,  and  presently  followed. 
Warily  she  rose  up  the  front  steps,  stole  to  the  parlor 
blinds,  and,  peering  in,  saw  her  father  pay  five  crisp 
thousand  dollar  bills  to  Cornelius  Leggett. 

In  her  bed  Barbara  thought  out  the  truth :  that  Cor 
nelius  still  held  some  secret  of  her  father's ;  that  in 
smaller  degree  he  had  been  drawing  hush  money  for 
years  ;  and  that  he  had  concluded  that  any  more  he 
could  hope  to  plunder  from  the  blazing  ruin  of  his  liv 
ing  treasury  must  be  got  quickly,  and  in  one  levy,  ere  it 
fell.  But  what  that  secret  might  be  she  strove  in  vain 
to  divine.  One  lurking  memory,  that  would  neither 
show  its  shape  nor  withdraw  its  shadow,  haunted  her 
ringing  brain.  The  clock  struck  twelve ;  then  one ; 
then  two  ;  and  then  she  slept. 

And  then,  naturally  and  easily,  without  ajar  between 
true  cause  and  effect,  the  romantic  happened  !  The 
memory  took  form  in  a  dream  and  the  dream  became  a 
key  to  revelation.  When  Johanna  brought  her  mis 
tress's  coffee  she  found  her  sitting  up  in  bed.  On  her 
white  lap  lay  the  old  reticule  of  fawnskin.  She  had 
broken  the  clasp  of  its  inner  pocket  and  held  in  her 


502       JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

hand  a  rudely  scrawled  paper  whose  blue  ink  and  strut 
ting  signature  the  unlettered  maid  knew  at  a  glance 
was  from  her  old-time  persecutor,  Cornelius.  It  was 
the  letter  her  father  had  dropped  under  the  chair  when 
she  was  a  child.  Across  its  face  were  still  the  bold 
figures  of  his  own  pencil,  and  from  its  blue  lines  stared 
out  the  secret. 

Garnet  breakfasted  alone  and  rode  off  to  town.  The 
moment  he  was  fairly  gone  Johanna  was  in  the  saddle, 
charged  by  her  mistress  with  the  delivery  of  a  letter 
which  she  was  "on  no  account  to  show  or  mention  to 
anyone  but — 

"  Yass'm,"  meekly  said  Johanna,  and  rode  straight  to 
the  office  of  John  March . 

A  kind  greeting  met  her  as  she  entered,  but  it  was 
from  Henry  Fair,  and  he  was  alone.  He,  too,  had  been 
reading  a  letter,  a  long  one  in  a  lady's  writing,  and 
seemed  full  of  a  busy  satisfaction.  Mr.  March,  he  said, 
had  ridden  out  across  the  river,  but  would  be  back  very 
shortly.  "  Johanna,  I  may  have  to  go  North  to-night. 
I  wonder  if  it's  too  early  in  the  day  for  me  to  call  on 
Miss  Garnet  ?  " 

"  No-o,  sen,"  drawled  the  conscientious  maid,  longing 
to  say  it  was.  "  II-it's  early,  but  I  don't  reckon  it's  too 
early,"  and  was  presently  waiting  for  Mr.  March,  alone. 

Hours  passed.  He  did  not  come.  She  got  starving 
hungry,  yet  wraited  on.  Men  would  open  the  door,  look 
in,  see  or  not  see  her  sitting  in  the  nearest  corner,  and 
close  it  again.  About  two  o'clock  she  slipped  out  to  the 
Hotel  Swanee,  thinking  she  might  find  him  at  dinner. 
They  said  he  had  just  dined  and  gone  to  his  office. 


BARRARA  FINDS  THE  RHYME  503 

She  hurried  back,  found  it  empty,  and  sat  down  again 
to  wait.  Another  hour  passed,  and  suddenly  the  door 
swung  in  and  to  again,  and  John  March  halted  before 
his  desk.  He  did  not  see  her.  His  attitude  was  as  if 
he  might  wheel  and  retrace  his  steps. 

Mrs.  March  had  broken  off  her  engagement  promptly. 
But  when  Garnet,  by  mail,  still  flattered  and  begged, 
the  poetess,  with  no  notion  of  relenting,  but  in  her  love 
of  dramatic  values  and  the  gentle  joy  of  perpetuating  a 
harrowing  suspense,  had  parleyed ;  and  only  just  now 
had  her  tyrannical  son  forced  a  conclusion  unfavorable 
to  the  unfortunate  suitor.  So  here  in  his  office  March 
smote  his  brow  and  exclaimed, 

"  O  my  dear  mother !  that  what  is  best  for  you 
should  be  so  bad  for  me !  Ahem  !  Why — why,  howdy, 
Johanna  ?  Hmm  !  " 

With  silent  prayers  and  tremors  the  girl  watched 
him  read  the  letter.  At  the  first  line  he  sank  into  his 
chair,  amazed  and  pale.  "My  Lord!"  he  murmured, 
and  read  on.  "  O  my  Lord  !  it  can't  be !  Why,  how  ? — 
why — O  it  shan't  be  !• — O — hem  !  Johanna,  you  can 
go'long  home,  there's  no  answer ;  I'll  be  there  before 
you." 

At  the  post-office  March  reined  in  his  horse  while 
Deacon  Usher  brought  out  a  drop  letter  from  Henry 
Fair.  But  he  galloped  as  he  read  it,  and  did  not  again 
slacken  speed  till  he  turned  into  the  campus — except 
once.  At  the  far  edge  of  the  battle-field,  on  that  ridge 
where  in  childhood  he  had  first  met  Garnet,  he  overtook 
and  passed  him  now.  As  he  went  by  he  slowed  to  a 
trot,  but  would  not  have  spoken  had  Garnet  not  glared 


504  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

on  him  like  a  captured  hawk.  The  young  man's  blood 
boiled.  He  stood  up  in  his  stirrups. 

"  Don't  look  at  me  that  way,  sir ;  I've  just  learned 
your  whole  miserable  little  secret  and  expect  to  keep  it 
for  you."  He  galloped  on.  When,  presently,  he  looked 
behind,  Garnet  had  turned  back — to  find  Leggett. 
That  search  was  vain.  Cornelius  and  his  "Delijab," 
kissing  their  hands  to  their  creditors,  were  already  well 
on  their  way  into  that  most  exhilarating  of  all  conun 
drums,  the  wide,  wide  world. 

From  Pulaski  City  Garnet  returned  on  the  early 
morning  train  to  Suez,  intending  to  ride  out  to  Rose- 
mont  without  a  moment's  delay.  But  on  the  station 
platform  he  came  face  to  face  with  John  March.  They 
went  to  the  young  man's  office  and  sat  there,  locked  in, 
for  an  hour.  Another  they  used  up  in  the  court-house 
and  in  Ravenel's  private  office  with  him  between  them 
in  the  capacity  of  an  attorney.  Yet  when  the  three 
men  parted  Ravenel  had  neither  asked  nor  been  told 
what  the  matter  was  which  had  occasioned  the  surpris 
ing  legal  transaction  that  they  had  just  completed. 

"Now,"  said  Garnet,  briskly,  "I  must  hurry  home, 
for  I  want  to  leave  on  the  evening  train." 

He  rode  out  alone  upon  the  old  turnpike  and  over  the 
knoll  where  Suez  still  hopes  some  day  to  build  the  reser 
voir,  and  reached  the  spot  where  he  and  his  young 
adjutant  picked  blackberries  that  first  day  wre  ever  saw 
them.  There  he  stopped,  and  looking  across  the  land  to 
the  roofs  of  distant  Rosemont,  straightened  up  in  the 
saddle  with  a  great  pride,  and  then,  all  at  once,  let  go  a 
long  groan  of  anguish  and,  covering  his  face,  heaved 


BARBARA  FINDS  THE  RHYME  505 

with  sobs  that  seemed  as  though  each  tore  a  separate  way 
up  from  his  heart.  Then,  as  suddenly,  he  turned  his 
horse's  head  and  rode  slowly  back.  Twice,  as  he  went, 
he  handled  something  in  the  pocket  of  his  coat's  skirt, 
and  the  third  time  drew  it  out — a  small  repeater.  He 
did  not  raise  the  weapon ;  he  only  looked  down  at  it  in 
his  trembling  hand,  the  old  thimbles  still  in  the  three 
discharged  chambers,  the  lead  peeping  from  the  other 
two,  and,  thinking  of  the  woman  who  shared  his  ruin, 
said  in  his  mind,  "  One  for  each  of  us." 

But  it  never  happened  so.  He  often  wishes,  yet,  that 
it  had,  although  lie  is,  and  has  been  for  years,  a  "plat 
form  star ;  "  "  the  eloquent  Southern  orator,  moralist 
and  humorist " — yes,  that's  the  self-same  man.  He's 
booked  for  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  lecture  course  in  your  own 
town  this  season.  His  lecture,  entitled  "  Temptation  and 
How  to  Conquer  It,"  is  said  to  be  "  a  wonderful  alter 
nation  of  humorous  and  pathetic  anecdotes,  illustrative, 
instructive  and  pat."  I  have  his  circular.  His  wife 
travels  with  him.  They  generally  put  up  at  hotels ; 
tried  private  hospitality  the  first  season,  but  it  didn't 
work,  somehow. 

They  have  never  revisited  Dixie  ;  and  only  once  in  all 
these  years  have  they  seen  a  group  of  Suez  faces.  But  a 
season  or  two  ago — I  think  it  was  ninety-three — in 
Fourteenth  Street,  New  York,  wife  and  I  came  square 
upon  Captain  Charlie  Champion,  whom  I  had  not  seen 
for  years,  indeed,  not  since  his  marriage,  and  whom  my 
wife,  never  having  been  in  Suez,  did  not  know.  Still 
he  would  have  us  up  to  dinner  at  his  hotel  with  Mrs. 
Champion.  He  promised  me  I  should  find  her  "just  as 


506  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

good  and  sweet  and  saane  as  of  old,  and  evm  prettieh !  " 
Plainly  the  hearty  Captain  was  more  a  man  than  ever, 
and  she  had  made  him  so !  He  told  us  we  should  meet 
Colonel  Ravenel  and  also — by  pure  good  luck  ! — Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Henry  Fair.  You  may  be  sure  we  were  glad 
to  go. 

Ravenel  had  to  send  us  word  from  the  rotunda  beg 
ging  us  to  go  in  to  dinner  without  him  and  let  him  join 
us  at  table.  Champion  neglected  his  soup,  telling  us  of 
two  or  three  Suez  people.  "  Pettigrew  ? — O  he  left  Suez 
the  year  Rosemont  chaanged  haynds.  Po'  Shot ! — he's 
ow  jail-keepeh,  now,  you  know — he  says  one  day,  s'e, 
'Old  Pettie  may  be  in  heavm  by  now,  but  I  don't 
believe  he's  happy ;  he'll  neveh  get  oveh  the  loss  of  his 
sla-aves ! ' ' 

Fair  spoke  of  John  March,  saying  his  influence  in 
that  region  Avas  not  only  very  strong  but  very  fine. 
Whereto  Champion  responded, 

" — Result  is  we've  got  a  betteli  town  and  a  long 
y  sight  betteli  risin'  generation  than  we  eveh  had  bcfo'. 
I  don't  reckon  Mr.  Fair  thinks  we  do  the  dahkeys  jus 
tice.  John  says  we  don't  and  I  don't  believe  we  do. 
When  it  comes  to  that,  seh,  where  on  earth  docs  the 
under  man  get  all  his  rights?  But  we  come  neareh  toe 
it  in  the  three  counties  than  anywheres  else  in  Dixie, 
and  that  I  knoiv" 

I  dropped  an  interrogative  hint  as  to  how  March 
stood  with  Ravenel. 

The  Captain  smiled.  "They  neveh  cla-ash.  Rave- 
nel's  the  same  mystery  he  always  was,  but  not  the  same 
poweh ;  his  losin'  Garnet  the  way  he  did,  and  then 


BARBARA  FIXDS  THE  RHYME  507 

John  bein'  so  totally  diffe'nt,  you  know  —  John  don't 
ofm  ask  Jeff-Jack  to  do  anything,  but  he  neveh  aasks 
in  vaain.  —  John's  motheh?  Yes,  she  still  lives  with 
him.  —  No,  she  ve'y  seldom  eveli  writes  much  poetry 
any  mo',  since  heh  book  turned  out  to  be  such  a' 
unaccountable  faailu'e.  She  jest  lives  with  him,  and 
really  "  —  he  dropped  his  voice  —  "  you'd  be  amaazed  to 
s-ee  how  much  she's  sort  o'  sweetened  and  mellered 
under  the  influence  of  —  Ah  !  there's  Colonel  Rav- 


" 


He  broke  off  with  a  whisper  of  surprise.  At  a  table 
near  the  door  Garnet's  wife  sat  smiling  eagerly  after 
her  husband  as  if  it  was  at  her  instigation  he  had  risen 
and  effusively  accosted  Ravenel  ;  and  both  she  and 
Garnet  knew  that  we  all  saw,  when  Ravenel  said  with 
an  unmoved  face  and  colorless  voice, 

"  No.  Xo,  I'm  perfectly  sure  I  never  saw  you  be 
fore,  sir."  It  may  have  been  wholly  by  chance,  but  in 
drawing  a  handkerchief  as  he  spoke  he  showed  the 
hand  whose  thumb  he  had  lost  in  saving  Garnet's  life. 

The  "star"  hurried  back  to  his  seat  and  resumed 
conversation  with  the  partner  of  his  fate  —  for  a  mo 
ment.  But  all  at  once  she  rose  and  went  out,  he  fol 
lowing,  leaving  their  meal  untouched. 

Wife,  as  it  was  right  she  should,  fell  in  love  with 
Mrs.  Fair  on  the  spot,  and  agreed  with  me  by  stolen 
glances  I  knew  how  to  interpret,  that  she  was  as  lovely 
and  refined  a  woman  as  she  had  ever  met.  Boston  had 
not  removed  that  odd,  winning  drawl  so  common  in  the 
South,  and  which  a  Southerner  learns  to  miss  so  ir,  the 
East.  But  when  wife  tried  to  have  her  talk  about  Suez 


508  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

and  its  environs  she  looked  puzzled  for  an  instant  and 
then,  with  a  light  of  inild  amusement  in  her  smile, 
said, 

"  O  ! — I  never  saw  Suez ;  I  was  born  and  brought  up 
in  Chicago." 

"No,"  said  Ravenel,  "it's  Mrs.  Champion  who  can 
tell  you  all  about  Suez." 

"  That's  so !  "  cried  Champion,  and  turning  to  his 
wife,  added,  "  What  the  Saltehs  don't  know  about  Suez 
ain't  wuth  knowin',  is  it,  Mahtha  ?  " 

That  night  I  told  wife  this  whole  story.  As  I 
reached  this  point  in  it  she  interposed  a  strong  insinua 
tion  that  I  am  a  very  poor  story-teller. 

"  I  thought,"  she  continued,  "  I  thought  I  had  heard 
you  speak  of  John  March  as  a  married  man,  father  of 
vast  numbers  of  children." 

To  the  last  clause  I  objected  and  she  modified  it. 
"  But,  anyhow,  you  leave  too  much  to  be  inferred.  I 
want  to  know  what  Garnet's  fatal  secret  was ;  and — 
well,  I  don't  care  especially  wThat  became  of  the  com 
mercial  traveler,  but  I  do  want  to  hear  a  little  about 
Barbara !  Did  she  marry  the  drummer  ?  " 

I  said  no,  apologized  for  my  vagueness  and  finished, 
in  effect,  thus : 

Before  Barbara  came  down-stairs,  at  Rosemont,  that 
day,  to  see  Mr.  March,  she  sent  him  Leggett's  letter. 
Cornelius  had  caught  scent  of  the  facts  in  it  from 
Uncle  Leviticus's  traditions  and  had  found  them  in  the 
county  archives,  which  he  had  early  learned  the  trick 
of  exploring.  The  two  Ezra  Jaspers,  cousins,  one  the 
grantee  of  Widewood,  the  other  of  Suez,  had  had,  each, 


BARBARA  FIXDS  THE  RHYME  509 

a  generous  ambition  to  found  a  college.  He  of  Suez 
— the  town  that  was  to  be — selected  for  his  prospective 
seat  of  learning  a  parcel  of  sixty  acres  close  against  the 
western  line  of  Widewood.  Whereupon  the  grantee  of 
Widewood  good-naturedly,  as  wTell  as  more  wisely, 
"  took  up  "  near  the  Suez  trad  the  sixty  acres  which 
eventually  became  Rosemont.  Both  pieces  lay  on  the 
same  side  of  the  same  creek  and  were  both  in  Clear- 
water  County,  as  was  much,  though  not  the  most,  of 
Widewood.  Moreover,  both  were  in  the  same  "sec 
tion"  and  "range,"  and  in  their  whole  description 
differed  scarcely  more  than  by  an  N  and  an  S,  one  be 
ing  in  the  northwest  and  the  other  in  the  southwest 
corner  of  the  same  township.  On  the  ill-kept  county 
records  these  twin  college  sites  early  got  mixed.  When 
Garnet  founded  Rosemont  his  friends  in  office  promised 
to  tax  that  public  benefaction  as  gently  as  they  dared, 
and  he  was  only  grateful  and  silent,  not  surprised,  when 
his  tax-bill  showed  no  increase  at  all.  But  while  Rose 
mont  was  still  small  and  poor  and  he  seriously  embar 
rassed  by  the  cost  of  an  unsuccessful  election,  came  this 
letter  of  Leggett's  to  open  his  eyes  and  complete  his 
despair.  There  across  it  were  his  own  pencilings  of 
volume  and  page  to  show  that  he  had  seen  the  record. 
In  one  of  his  mad  moments,  and  in  the  hopeful  convic 
tion  that  the  mulatto  would  soon  get  himself  shot  or 
hung,  he  paid  him  to  keep  still.  From  that  time  on, 
making  Leggett's  silence  just  a  little  more  golden  than 
his  speech,  he  had,  "  in  bad  faith,"  as  the  lawyers  say, 
been  pouring  all  his  gains,  not  worse  spent,  into  property 
built  on  land  belonging  to  the  Widewood  estate ;  that 


510  JOHN  MARCH,  SOUTHERNER 

is,  into  Rosemont.  When  Judge  March  found  his 
Clearwater  taxes  high,  he  was  only  glad  to  see  any  of 
his  lands  growing  in  value.  When  John  came  into 
possession,  Garnet,  his  party  being  once  more  in  power, 
had  cunningly  arranged  for  Rosemont  not  to  be  taxed 
on  its  improvements,  but  only  on  its  land,  and  March 
discovered  nothing.  In  the  laud  boom  Garnet  kept  the 
odd  sixty  acres,  generally  supposed  to  be  a  part  of 
Widewood,  out  of  sight,  and  induced  John  to  deed  it 
to  his  mother.  But  when  John  came  back  from 
Europe  landless,  there  arose  the  new  risk  that  he  might 
persuade  her  to  sell  the  odd  sixty  acres,  and,  on  looking 
into  the  records  to  get  its  description,  find  himself  and 
his  mother  the  legal  owners  of  Rosemont. 

"That's  why  the  villain  was  so  anxious  to  marry 
her !  "  said  John  to  himself  audibly  as  he  paced  up  and 
down  in  the  Rosemont  parlor. 

"Mr.  March,"  said  Barbara's  slow  voice.  She  had 
entered  as  she  spoke. 

"  Miss— Miss  Garnet !  " 

"  Please  be  seated."  There  was  a  tempest  in  her 
heart,  but  her  words  were  measured  and  low.  "You 
wyere  very  kind  to  come."  She  dragged  her  short  sen 
tences  and  at  the  same  time  crowded  them  upon  each 
other  as  if  afraid  to  let  him  speak.  He  sat,  a  goodly 
picture  of  deferential  attention,  starving  to  see  again  her 
old-time  gaze ;  but  she  kept  her  eyes  on  the  floor.  "  Mr. 
March,  of  course — of  course,  this  is  terrible  to — me.  I 
only  say  it  because  I  don't  want  to  seem  heartless  to — 
others — when  I  tell  you  I  thank  God — O  please  don't 
speak  yet,  sir" — her  hands  trembled — "I  thank  God 


BARBARA  FINDS  THE  RHYME  511 

this  thing  has  come  to  light.  For  my  dear  father's  own 
sake  I  am  glad,  gladder  than  I  can  tell,  that  he  has  lost 
Ivosemont.  The  loss  may  save  him.  But  I'm  glad,  too, 
Mr.  March,  that  it's  come  to  you — please  hear  me — and 
to  your  mother.  Of  course  I  know  your  lost  Widewood 
isn't  all  here ;  but  so  much  of  it  is.  I  wish " 

March  stopped  her  with  a  gesture.  "  I  will  not — 0  I 
cannot — hear  any  more !  I'm  ashamed  to  have  let  you 
say  so  much  !  Rosemont  is  yours  and  shall'stay  yours! 
That's  what  I  came  to  say.  Two  properties  were  ex 
changed  by  accident  when  each  was  about  as  near 
worthless  as  the  other,  and  your  mother's  family  and  my 
father's  have  lived  up  to  the  mistake  and  have  stood  by 
it  for  three  generations.  I  will  not  take  it !  My  mother 
will  not!  She  renounced  it  this  morning!  Do  you 
understand  ?  " 

Barbara  gave  a  start  of  pain  and  murmured,  "  I 
do."  Her  heart  burned  with  the  knowledge  that 
he  was  waiting  for  her  uplifted  glance.  He  began 
again. 

"  The  true  value  of  Rosemont  never  came  out  of 
Widcwood.  It's  the  coined  wealth  of  your  mother's 
character  and  yours !  "  He  ceased  in  a  sudden  rage  of 
love  as  he  saw  the  colors  of  the  rose  deepen  slowly  on 
the  beautiful,  half-averted  face,  and  then,  for  very  trep 
idation,  hurried  on.  "  O  understand  me,  I  will  not  be 
robbed!  Major  Garnet  cannot  have  Rosemont.  But 
no  one  shall  ever  know  I  have  not  bought  it  of  him. 
And  it  shall  first  be  yours  ;  yours  in  law  and  trade  as 
it  is  now  in  right.  Then,  if  you  will,  you,  who  have 
been  its  spirit  and  soul,  shall  keep  it  and  be  so  still. 


512  JOHN  MA R CII,  SOU THERNER 

But  if  you  will  not,  then  we,  my  mother  and  I,  will 
buy  it  of  you  at  a  fair  price.  For,  Miss — Miss ' 

"  Barb — "  she  murmured. 

"  O  thank  you  !  "  cried  he.  "  A  thousand  times  ! 
And  a  thousand  times  I  promise  you  I'll  never  misun 
derstand  you  again  !  But  hem  ! — to  return  to  the 
subject ;  Miss  Barb — I — O  well,  I  was  going  to  add 
merely  that — that,  eh — I — hem  ! — that,  eh — O — How 
ever  !  "  She  raised  her  eyes  and  he  turned  crimson  as 
he  stammered,  "  I — I — I've  forgotten  what  I  was  going 
to  say  !  " 

"  I  can  neither  keep  Rosemont  nor  sell  it,  Mr.  March. 
It's  yours.  It's  yours  every  way.  It's  yours  in  the 
public  wish;  my  father  told  me  so  last  night.  And 
there's  a  poetic  justice " 

"  Poetic— 0  !  " 

"  Mr.  March,  didn't  we  once  agree  that  God  gives  us 
our  lives  in  the  rough  for  us  to  shape  them  into  poetry — 
that  it's  poetry,  whether  sad  or  gay,  that  makes  alive — 
and  that  it's  only  the  prose  that  kills  ?  " 

"ph  !  do  you  remember  that  ?  " 

"  Yes."  Her  eyes  fell  again.  "  It  was  the  time  you 
asked  me  to  use  your  first  name." 

"  0 !  Miss  Barb,  are  you  still  going  to  hold  that 
against  me  ?  " 

"  Rosemont  should  be  yours,  Mr.  March.  It  rhymes !  " 
She  stood  up. 

"  No  !  No,  no  !  I  give  it  to  you  !  "  he  said,  spring 
ing  to  his  feet. 

"  Will  you,  really,  Mr.  March  ? "  She  moved  a  step 
toward  the  door. 


BARBARA  FINDS  THE  RHYME  513 

"  O  Miss  Barb,  I  do  !  I  do  !  " 
But  your  mother's  consent- 


A  pang  of  incertitude  troubled  his  brave  face  for  an 
instant,  but  then  he  said,  "  Oh,  there  can  be  no  doubt ! 
Let  me  go  and  get  it !  "  He  started. 

"  Xo,"  she  falteringly  said,  "  don't  do  it." 

"Yes!  Yes!  Say  yes!  Tell  me  to  go!"  He 
caught  her  hand  beseechingly.  As  their  eyes  gazed 
into  each  other's,  hers  suddenly  filled  and  fell. 

"  Go,"  was  her  one  soft  word.  But  as  he  reached  the 
door  another  stopped  him  : 

«  John " 

He  turned  and  stood  trembling  from  head  to  foot,  his 
brow  fretted  with  an  agony  of  doubt.  "Oh,  Barbara 
Garnet !  "  he  cried,  "why  did  you  say  that?" 

"Johanna  told  me,"  she  murmured,  smiling  through 
her  tears. 

He  started  with  half- lifted  arms,  but  stopped,  turned, 
and  with  a  hand  on  his  brow,  sighed,  "  My  mother ! " 

But  a  touch  rested  on  his  arm  and  a  voice  that  was 
never  in  life  to  be  strange  to  him  again  said,  "If  you 
don't  say  'our  mother,'  I  won't  call  you  John  any " 

Oh  !     Oh  !     Oh  !  men  are  so  rough  sometimes ! 


THE    END. 


RETURN     CIRCULATION  DEPARTMENT 

TO—  •*      202  Main  Library 

LOAN  PERIOD  1 
HOME  USE 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

ALL  BOOKS  MAY  BE  RECALLED  AFTER  7  DAYS 

Renewals  and  Recharges  may  be  made  4  days  prior  to  the  due  date. 

Books  may  be  Renewed  by  calling     642-3405. 

DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 


3BTO 


o  8  tqq 


...     . 


FORM  NO.  DD6 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  BERKELEY 
BERKELEY,  CA  94720 


GENERAL  LIBRARY  -  U.C.  BERKELEY 


BOOD7MSOM2 


M115402 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


